


A Story of a Soldier in the Dark

by thefreakfox



Series: The Way I Choose [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hunter AU, Hunter!Cas, M/M, Romance, Slow Build, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefreakfox/pseuds/thefreakfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak wants to be a hunter, just like his dad. The only problem? He knows nothing (well, almost nothing) about hunting and fighting, because when Ellen Harvelle took him in, she swore to herself that she wouldn't put him in this danger. But she hasn't anticipated exactly how stubborn Cas can be - and how convincing Dean's stories of hunting are. And while Cas tries to think of a way to convince Ellen to let him go hunting, he also has to deal with his feelings for Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so, first things first:
> 
> 1) The timeline I set for the story is different from canon, it's set approximately from 2004/2005 onward  
> 2) as I said before, the story is already finished, and I'm going to upload a new chapter every two or three days, I'm still working on some minor changes in the end of the story, but that will not influence the posting.  
> 3) This is the first part in a series of three; however, I haven't written the third part yet and I'm only getting started on the second.
> 
> I guess that's it, I hope you'll have fun, maybe drop me a comment here or on tumblr?
> 
> endless thanks again to eierschalenblau, who helped me in basically everything in this story. You are awesome!

* * *

 

 

“Bobby’s called. The Winchesters are coming our way. Do me a favor, sweetheart, get the beds ready? I already sent Jo to the pantry to get some food.”

Ellen leaned over to Cas, nearly shouting over the buzz of the bar. The Roadhouse was packed tonight, and by all rights, Cas shouldn’t even be downstairs – being fourteen and all; not really a place for a fourteen year old boy, the Roadhouse. But he had never been especially good at following orders. Plus, Ellen never really got mad about him when he disobeyed, just ruffled his hair and sent him his way.

“Sure, Ma. Anything else?”, he said and went to get fresh sheets after Ellen had shook her head.

Now, Ellen – she wasn’t really his mother, and Cas knew it. His father had been a hunter (just like about every other person currently in the room) and had dropped him off at the Roadhouse; he had been following an especially mean wendigo and didn’t want to endanger his son. He had never come back.

At least, that’s how Ellen always told the story. From what Cas had gleamed so far (so what, hunters talked; and drunk hunters talked even more), his dad had most likely dropped him off here because he didn’t want to endanger himself; having to care for a kid and all. Cas had stopped caring about which story was the right one; the wendigo had killed his dad either way, so in the end, it didn’t really matter.

He must’ve been no more than ten years old when his dad had died, and probably eleven when he started to call Ellen “Ma”. She was the closest he would ever get to a mother (he didn’t know his real mother, and his father had never talked about her); and besides, she never really seemed to mind. Jo – five years old then – had thrown a fit of epic proportions, but had calmed down afterwards, only to warn Cas away from her toys (and for a five year old girl, she had done a damn good job).

So Cas had stayed at the Roadhouse, because after all, it wasn’t like there had been any place else he could’ve gone. It wasn’t like there was a home for wayward sons of hunters or some such shit. Instead, Ellen had told him that – if he wanted – the Roadhouse was his new home, for as long as he wanted to stay here. The first time he had called her “Ma”, Ellen had cried.

Cas had been twelve when he met the Winchesters for the first time: John, the father, that had looked weary even for a hunter, and his sons, Dean and Sam. Dean had been eleven, and Sam seven years old. After the first time, he hadn’t been so sure if he liked either of them – Dean looked older than he was and sure acted like it, too; and Sam had managed to beat him in training. The latter hadn’t been really a surprise, seeing that Ellen didn’t really train him or Jo; and John seemed determined to make some badass soldiers out of both of his sons.

Anyway, they managed to not kill each other during the Winchesters’ stay at the Roadhouse, which Cas thought was a pretty impressive feat. It didn’t really get better at first, and after the third stay Cas was pretty positive that he hated Dean’s guts; possibly Sam’s too. No matter how often Ellen told him to behave himself, and no matter how _done_ all three Winchesters looked, Cas couldn’t bring himself to do it. Plus, he didn’t like them to show up with the frequency they did. And from what he had gathered from Ellen’s confused looks, showing up three times in six months wasn’t exactly textbook Winchester behavior.

Now that he looked back, it had probably been jealousy: he hadn’t wanted another boy near his family, much less two. Only after John had dropped of Dean and Sam for the whole summer, murmuring something about how Bobby didn’t have time for the boys and he had a big hunt going on, Cas had begun to like Sam and Dean. More precisely, he had begun to like them after both Jo and Sam had been scared shitless because they had sneaked in Ellen’s library to look at some pictures of monsters.

***

_“And you’re sure the monsters can’t come in here?”, Sammy asked from where he was perched on the bed. He tried to look brave, Cas realized, but the tears that stood in his eyes and the fact that he was shaking like a leaf betrayed his act. Jo wasn’t much better off, sitting in Cas’ lap and hiding her face in his neck._

_Under normal circumstances, looking in the closet and under the bed to prove that there was no monster would’ve probably sufficed. Maybe a nightlight and leaving the door open. But neither the circumstances nor the children were exactly normal. Every one of them knew about monsters, knew that they were real; after all, they were hunters’ children._

_Dean shot Cas a look, anger mixed with concern. It wasn’t Cas’ fault that Jo and Sam had managed to get into the library; and it wasn’t his fault that they had grabbed one of the books that portrayed practically everything that goes bump in the night, either, but Dean looked like he wanted to blame him nevertheless. But at first, Cas and Dean had to make sure that their siblings felt save again._

_“We’ll do this together, Sammy, a’right? What protects you from ghosts?” Dean nudged the younger boy with a finger. “Salt,” came the answer. “Salt lines at the windowsills and the doors. And iron.” Dean nodded. “So I put salt on the windowsills and you have the poker, yeah?”_

_Sam exhaled and looked towards Cas, as if he was expecting him to say something, too. “Uhm,” Cas said, hesitating. “Under your pillow, there’s a hexbag. You wanna open it and tell me what you see?”_

_Jo had taken interest in her surroundings again, because she lifted her head and watched Sam scramble for the pillow. Carefully, she climbed down Cas’ lap, stood and walked towards the bed where Dean and Sam were sitting. After she’d shot one uncertain look back, Cas stood too and walked over there._

_“Jo, wanna help?”, Sam asked and showed the ingredients of the bag. “That’s a chicken’s foot,” she said “and that’s lavender.” Sam nodded and inspected the other parts. “A spider’s egg. And… hemp?” he looked at Dean for approval. “And goofer dust,” Cas added. “The hexbag protects you from demons and angels.” Dean snorted. “Angels,” he said dismissively, “you don’t think they really exist, do you?” Cas shrugged (like hell he would admit that he believed in them) “Can’t hurt to protect yourself,” he said._

_Jo tugged at Cas’ hands as he folded the ingredients back in the bag and put it under the pillow. “Do we get to have a devil’s trap?” she asked. Cas spared one moment to despair of the fact that the girl just freakin knew way too much for her own good, then he sighed and nooded. “Sure thing, Dean’ll draw one in no time, won’t you?” He grinned at Dean, finally able to shed some of the worry that had crept in his heart after he had seen what kind of mess Jo and Sam had been. Dean grumbled something unintelligible, but complied. As soon as Dean had left the bed, Sam moved closer to Cas, taking the hand that wasn’t occupied by Jo._

_After they had put their smaller siblings to bed, Cas and Dean headed to the room they shared. Just as Cas was about to turn off the light, Dean looked at him. “Thank you,” he said quietly “Sam doesn’t normally like being touched by other people ‘cept for me and Dad. You were good with him.”_

_With that, he turned around so his back was facing Cas, and a few moments later Cas heard him snoring softly._

***

Cas snorted as he thought of the memory. The next day, Dean had made fun of him for dropping his weapon; and no matter how often Cas insisted that he wasn’t trained as Dean was, the boy insisted that he trained along with him. After that, Cas had looked forward to visits from the Winchesters; as much as he loved Jo, it was nice to have another boy of his age in the house.

After he had gotten sheets on the spare beds in Jo’s and his room – how they would actually bunk together wasn’t quite sure yet, most of the time the four of them together decided on a whim who would sleep in whose room – he finished the guest bed for John, then he went downstairs again to see if he could help Jo and their cook.

When the Winchesters arrived, Cas was half asleep already. He only woke because Sam threw himself in Cas’ bed to hug him hello, and Dean let his duffel fall to the floor, causing an incredible racket.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. What the fuck is in our bag? Did you rob a china store?” Cas muffled from under Sam’s hair and gently pushed the smaller boy to the side. It looked like the two Winchesters were both sleeping in his room, seeing as Jo was already asleep and could get unbelievably grumpy when she was woken in the middle of the night. In a silent understanding, Dean and he pushed the beds together, so they would have at least a resemblance of space to sleep. With Sam in the middle (already complaining about how he felt more of the frames than the mattresses), Cas and Dean fell asleep pretty quickly.

 

* * *

 

sooo, what do you think? tell me here, or [on my tumblr](http://www.thefreakfox.tumblr.com)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially I wanted the next chapter tomorrow, but I've got such nice feedback over tumblr that I decided to do it already today, so enjoy!

* * *

 

“Dude, how can you forget that? I’ve explained it to you last time!” Dean’s voiced sounded not half as pissed as he tried to be.

“I told you, I don’t fight. I mean, I don’t train,” Cas’ voice was strained. Jo and Sam were practicing hand-to-hand combat nearby and it looked like Jo definitely had the upper hand most of the time (not that Cas was counting). “But I can’t hit _girls_!” Sam’s distressed voice wavered over to him. Two seconds later, Jo planted her fist into Sam’s face. Dean howled with laughter.

“You don’t hit them, they hit you, Sammyboy!” Then he turned to Cas again. “It’s really not that hard. Sam could do it faster than you.”

“You’ve been trained. Ellen doesn’t train us. She doesn’t want us to hunt,” Cas explained for the hundredth time.

Dean scoffed. “Still, you should know how to use and clean a gun. Do it again?”

Cas sighed and tried to put the gun back together. Every time he touched the wrong part, Dean would say “wrong” in a low voice, but wouldn’t tell him what he should do instead. After ten minutes of this, Cas threw the gun on the table.

“I’m so done with that. Can we do something else? How ‘bout swords, or daggers?”

Dean took the gun and put it together correctly, and it didn’t even look like he had to think about how to do it really hard. It confused Cas sometimes, how Dean looked like he had everything under control, like he knew what to do. It was easy to forget that he was a year younger than Cas, so Cas frequently looked to him for advice or permission. Dean didn’t seem to mind, but not in a cruel, power-grabbing way; more like he was used to that kind of thing.

“Machete, or dagger,” Dean said suddenly; and Cas did not have to think about it much. “Machete,” he said. The blade was too broad for his taste, and it was too heavy for him, but Cas liked to fight with blades more than he liked to fight with guns. His dad had had a long, slim blade. It looked very shiny, and seemed to be lighter than it had any right to be. Angel blade, his dad had called it. Cas had never been allowed to touch it or train with it, but he had liked the look of the blade. After his dad’s death, he didn’t thought he would ever see it again, but some weeks later, a package had arrived at the Roadhouse, addressed to him. Inside had been a short note, and the blade.

***

_Cas held the blade like it was the most precious thing he owned. He looked again at the note, saying only “  
_ This was Adonai’s blade. He wanted to give it to you when you were older,”  
 _it read. It was weird to see his dad’s full name written down. Just like he had always been Cas, his dad had always been Don. It was a weird family trait of the Novaks, to give the men Bible or Angel names, and then to shorten them so that their real names were barely recognizable anymore. He cradled the blade one last time, and then he wrapped it in cloth and put it under the loose floorboard right beside his bed._

_This was his father’s legacy, he realized. He would never see his father again, and this was the only thing that remained of him. He didn’t care how the blade had come to him – hunters died, and sometimes other hunters took care to return some stuff to their families – he only cared about the fact that this was the weapon he would fight with, when the time would come. No guns, or machetes, no tricks and devil’s traps. When he would put up the blade one day, he would kill with it, and nothing else._

_There was the problem of Ellen refusing to train him; she had lost her husband to hunting, and didn’t want Cas or Jo to go the same way. But somehow he knew that she would not try to keep him back once he decided to go._

_“And I will go, I swear dad,” he said quietly. “I am gonna be a good hunter.”_

***

“Watcha thinkin’ ‘bout, dude?” Dean’s voice called him back from his memories and he raised his head.

“Nothing. Now, are you gonna get the machetes or not?”

Dean nodded and went, and Cas kept an eye on Sam and Jo. All of them were just in the backyard, but neither Dean nor Cas would have ever left them alone for a second. They were similar in that, if not in anything else. But Cas suspected that it was enough; protecting their siblings was the most important part about them, and not to understand it meant to not understand them at all. When Dean came back with the machetes (Cas wondered if he had asked John for permission or if he had just stolen them out of the Impala’s trunk) they took care to blunt the blades as not to hurt each other. Machetes weren’t exactly for one-on-one combat, more for slicing and harming vampires, but it never hurt to train with them. Plus, Dean and him had developed a way of training where they could fight against each other. It wasn’t really fighting against each other, more training their strength and balance, getting used to the feeling of a machete. Dean fought with vampires in the back of his head, Cas while thinking of his father’s blade.

He hadn’t ever told anyone about the blade, not even Ellen or Jo. He had been tempted to tell Dean a few times, but he hadn’t done it. The Angel blade was his secret; and he knew his dad had never told anyone about it either. Sometimes Cas wondered if there was a story to the blade; a story he should have heard growing up. Sometimes he wondered how his life would have turned out had his father not been killed.  
The sound of one blade on another hauled him back, again. Dean looked curiously at him. He was used to Cas spacing out, but not that often.

“You okay?” he asked, and Cas nodded, raising the machete. “Let’s do this.”

***

When they came in for dinner, battered and bruised, the looks ranged from proud (John) to disapproving (Ellen). Dean seemed to react to both with beaming brightly, whereas Cas turned red and hunched his shoulders. Jo and Sam had gone in earlier, so the chances grab a shower before dinner were pretty slim; both Sam and Jo needed an inordinate amount of time to shower. Cas resigned and washed his face and hands in the kitchen sink, not surprised to see that Dean had forgone cleaning and had grabbed the nearest sandwich, already stuffing his mouth with it.

“One day you will choke on one of these. Or on a burger. And nobody will be there to save you, Dean Winchester,” Cas prophesied, before he grabbed a sandwich himself.

Dinner was a very informal affair, everyone sitting at the bar so Ellen could eat with them and man the bar at the same time. Sam and Jo arrived almost at the same time, both squeaky clean, with the last two sandwiches in hand, already bartering Jo’s vegetables for Sam’s bacon.

“How was training?” John asked, pointedly looking at the dark shadow that was forming under Sam’s eye.

“Good,” Sam muttered and kept his head down.

“Jo punched him in the face!” Dean shared gleefully.

“Joanna Beth Harvelle! You do NOT punch other people in the face, do you hear me!” Ellen exploded and shot a vicious look towards John. The oldest Winchester seemed torn between being amused, congratulating Jo and being angry at Sam, but Ellen’s look decided for him.

“So what, Ellen. The kids need to train. They’ll become hunters one day, better to prepare them now, dontcha think?” John chuckled, completely underestimating his host.

“No child of mine will _ever_ start huntin’, not while I’m around. They do not deserve this life, John. Might be you have to hunt, might be William had to, and it got him killed.” Ellen’s eyes were cold as stone as she said that, cold and unforgiving. Jo and Cas – who only knew that look when one of the hunters in the bar started talking shit about Jo’s dad – seemed to shrink into themselves.

“ _Your_ children? Cas isn’t even yours, Ellen. And let’s face it, you keep the Roadhouse. How can you think Jo will lead a normal life when she grows up in a bar for hunters, huh? And Cas? Cas is a Novak. Don was one of the best hunters there was, it’s in his blood.”

Dean, who had his head bent over his plate just as the other three children in the room, looked up, nudged Cas in the side and nodded towards the entry to the upstairs room. Strategic retreat, the message was unspoken but clear.

“I might have not given birth to Cas, but he is my son, and I love him, and he will not go off and kill monsters, just as Jo won’t. You might want to kill your children, but I sure as hell won’t do that to mine.”

Cas suddenly stood up, his chair nearly flipping over.

“I’m not hungry anymore.”, he said in a raspy voice, before he left the bar and went up the stairs.

The last thing he heard was John shouting after Dean and Sam, to pack their stuff because they were leaving. Cas locked himself in one of the bathrooms and only came out after he heard the rumble of the Impala fade.

It would be nearly two years before he saw Dean, or any of the Winchesters, again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my dearies, sorry it took so long for the third chapter, but the last few days were kinda crazy. but here it is now, so have fun and maybe tell me what you think?
> 
> edit: because I got a comment referring to the age of Jo: I made Jo's age the same as Sam's, not because I'm not aware of the canonical two years gap between Sam and Jo, but because it was easier for me to write them being the same age than bringing in a Jo who was so much more younger than Cas, because in my opinion it would made interaction between Jo and the three guys much harder; at least it would be harder for me to write it that way.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Cas, it’s me.”

“Hello, Dean. How are you?”

“Jeez, you sound like your fifty, not fifteen. I’m fine, by the way. Just finished a hunt in Iowa. Some weird monster from a Native American legend, can’t remember its name. Ate people. Pretty disgusting.”

Dean laughed and Cas couldn’t help but smile. The phone calls had started not quite two months after the fight John and Ellen had had; and by now it was a not-quite-routine, Dean calling every time they finished a hunt. Cas seldom called him; he never knew if Dean was busy or not, and as far as he knew, Dean hadn’t told his father about the calls.

“How’s Sam?” Cas knew he shouldn’t keep Dean too long on the phone, he sounded like he hadn’t slept for days (which was, considering the details, pretty likely) and Cas felt bad for even asking after Sam, keeping Dean awake a bit longer; but on the other hand, he cared for Sam almost as much as Dean did, so not asking would keep him up the whole night.

“Sammy’s alright. He’s gotten better at hand to hand combat, but he still can’t shoot for shit. The other day at training, he almost-“

“Sam’s ten, he shouldn’t even take a gun in his hands, Dean.” They had argued about that countless times already; Cas always saying Sam shouldn’t be trained and Dean arguing that Sam had to.

“I know. Let’s not fight, okay? It’s like were having the same stupid fight Dad and Ellen had. I’m tired.” Dean sighed and Cas instantly felt bad.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Happy Birthday, by the way. I almost forgot, but I sent you a postcard. I-“

There was a sound in the background, squeaking pipes or something.

“I have to finish, Dad’s done with the shower. Night.”

Cas stared at his phone long after Dean had hung up.

***

“Dude, I just had sex.”

“You had what?”

“Sex. With a girl. It was awesome. I was awesome.”

“Too much information, Dean.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous, Cas. Just because I got laid before you did. By the way, I just like, came my brains out.”

“Oh god you are so disgusting seriously, Dean Winchester.”

“Shuddup, Cassie. Wait. What? _What?_ No, Cassie is not my girlfriend, what are you talking about. Don’t be stupid. Hey. Wait. _Wait!_ ”

Cas heard a door being slammed shut, and then Dean again.

“Well thanks man, now she’s gone.”

“Don’t act like it’s my fault!” Cas shook his head, even when Dean couldn’t see it. “I wouldn’t have stayed either. You called her stupid. Please tell me you at least left the bed before you called me.”

“…”

“Dean.”

“…”

“ _Dean!_ That’s like, worst behavior ever. Seriously. Plus, I didn’t really want to know that you had sex. Way too much info.”

“Shut up, I always call you when something happens.”

***

_Happy Birthday Dean!_

_I hope you got the package; I sent it to Bobby’s, he normally knows where you’re staying._

_And don’t look so confused, I did not give you a stick as a birthday present, don’t be stupid. It’s called a Tanto. This hunter I told you about, who was staying at the Roadhouse a few weeks ago? He gave two of them to me after he caught me training with a broomstick. Stop laughing, you know that Ellen keeps her weapons locked up and I have nothing to train with. The real ones are not out of wood, obviously. Maybe I’ll get a real one someday. _

_Anyway, he showed me how to use it. You’ll have to figure it out for yourself. The next time we see each other, I’ll expect you to be trained. You are so done, Winchester. _

_Take care._

_P.S.: Things at the Roadhouse are fine. Jo’s growing up real quick. Did you know she’s actually older than Sam?_

_P.P.S.: And for God’s sake, don’t give him shit about it. The way her training’s going, she will annihilate Sam the next time they’ll see each other again._

_P.P.S.: Don’t look so confused. Jo found out I was training secretly and she made me help her with training, otherwise she’ll tell Ma._

_***_

“M’RY CHRSHMAAAS CAS!”

“Dude, are you drunk? Christmas isn’t for another week.”

“Dad’s gone. We ‘ave eggnog. D’you wanna come over, Cas?”

“Don’t be stupid, Dean. I don’t even know where you a-“

“Wyoming.”

“It doesn’t matter, Dean. I cannot just go and leave. School’s not over yet.”

“Buuuut. I could steal a car and drive to you. Christmas is no fun without you, Cas.” Cas could hear Dean pouting at the other end of the line and he sighed.

“You can’t just drive here, Dean. You’re fifteen, you’re not allowed yet. Plus, you’re drunk.”

“I’ll be sixteen soon, Caaaaas. I miss you, Cas.”

“Dean. I- Just. Don’t be drunk. And don’t drive here, promise me.” Cas was about to say something else, but then he remembered something else. “Where’s Sam?”

“Sleepover. Dude, you din’ think I’d stop watching out for Sammy? Fuck you.”

“Dean, I’m sorry, I-“

But Dean had already hung up.

 

 _You have (1) new text message from:_ C-ASSBUTT

                Dean, you ever hang up on me again and I’ll rip you a new one.

                C.


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Cas saw his best friend, Dean wasn’t a boy anymore; but it took him some time to realize that.

It was Cas’ seventeenth birthday, and when he heard the Impala’s engine coming up the driveway, he was pretty sure that he was hallucinating. Because one, Dean had never, not once since they knew each other, managed to wish him a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, or a Happy Birthday on the day it was actually warranted for. Cas record wasn’t exactly perfect either, but he distinctly remembered that at least one time for each of the occasions, he had been on time. The second reason why hallucinations seemed more likely than the fact that the Winchesters were gracing the Roadhouse with their presence again, was that the person who was driving the Impala did not look like John Winchester at all.

Cas had just been coming back from a run; after all, Ellen, Jo and him already had had a sort of Birthday breakfast and he didn’t really expect anything else. His breath was pretty short, having run the last few paces with full speed, and when the driver’s door opened and Dean stepped out of the car, his breath altogether stopped.

“Dean?” he said unbelievingly.

“Cas!” A shadow had emerged from the other side of the car, and seconds later Sam launched himself at Cas, hair even more floppy than before. “Happy Birthday, Cas! We have presents for you!”

Cas, who was still staring at Dean, nearly missed to catch the youngest Winchester, but managed just in time. “Heyyy, Sam.” He set Sam down on the ground and ruffled his hair.

“Why don’t you go inside? I think Jo’s in there somewhere and I bet she’s totally going to freak when she sees you.”

After Sam had run off, Cas realized that Dean hadn’t come closer. In fact, he was still gripping the driver’s door, his knuckles white. Cas stepped closer.

“Hello, Dean”

“Fuck, Cas. I- Happy Birthday,” was the only thing Dean was able to get out before he grabbed Cas in a tight hug. Cas stiffened a moment; then he hugged back.

“I missed you, Dean,” he whispered. “Missed you too, Cas,” Dean whispered back, before they both let go.

“Why are you here? Where’s John? Has something happened?”

As soon as Cas realized that Dean was really with him, the cogs in his brain had started turning.

Dean shook his head. “Can we talk about that later? I’m totally starved. And dude, you reek. Go grab a shower. I’ll say hello to Ellen, ask if she even wants us here.”

Cas opened his mouth to shoot back a witty retort, but when Dean had finished, his face was more solemn. “She never had that fight with Sam and you, you know?” he said, before they both walked towards the house.

***

Over dinner, Ellen managed to get the whole story out of Dean: how they had started a hunt in Maine that had looked like a simple salt and burn, but had turned out to be the epitome of weird shit; how they had travelled to Michigan to meet up with another group of hunters, because it turned out that they were basically all on the same case; how they all had realized that they were hunting after a coven that was bigger than everyone had initially thought; and how the coven had fled over the border to Canada. At that point John had decided that it was too dangerous for his sons to be dragged along, so he had granted Dean momentary rights to the Impala and had sent him and Sam to the Roadhouse. Dean didn’t look to happy about it, and Sam looked downright terrified.

Cas could only empathize; after all, he knew how it was to be left behind. And as much as he sometimes despised John Winchester, he really hoped that he would come out of this okay. He made a mental note to take Sam to the library as soon as possible, to get his mind off the whole thing, although he doubted that it would work completely.

“But I don’t understand,” Jo said “why didn’t he take the ‘pala? You could’ve stolen a car that’s less… well, flashy.”

“Because we don’t steal cars, Joanna Beth,” Ellen told her with a tone that was too close to despair to actually work on her.

“Dad thought it would be easier for us to get through the country with a car that actually belonged to someone with Winchester as last name. Instead of a, you know, stolen one. I guess he drove with a hunter until they were over the border and then…” he looked at Ellen, unsure, “uhm… _bought_ a car?”

Sam snorted into his salad and Cas couldn’t help but grin. It was almost sweet, how Dean tried to be on his best behavior around Ellen and Jo. Cas only hadn’t figured out if it was because of Ellen, or Jo, or actually both of them.

When they had finished dinner, Jo and Sam scurried off to somewhere (presumably to do something stupid, it was incredible how much chaos Sam could cause even though he was considered the sensible one of the Winchester brothers) and Cas and Dean were stuck with cleaning the dishes and the kitchen. Dean had only just managed to instruct Sam to stay close to the house and come inside as soon as it got dark, before his little brother vanished around the corner.

“Sooo, Cas. Cassie,” Dean said as soon as Ellen had left them to themselves. Cas sighed, he knew that tone all too well.

“What, Dean.”

“Got laid lately?”

“No.” Cas tried to concentrate on cleaning the dishes. He’d had his fair share of sexual experience, but he would never tell Dean that. He sincerely doubted that Dean would approve of him fucking random hunters that stayed at the Roadhouse and caught his eye. Male hunters, that was.

“Aw, c’mon. Why not? You wanna die a virgin?”

Cas sighed again.

“It’s none of your fucking business, Dean, alright? Leave me alone.” Cas dumped the glass he had been cleaning in the sink and turned around to leave, but Dean grabbed him before he could.

“Sorry, Cas. I’m just… I’m sorry, okay? You don’t wanna talk about it, we don’t talk about it. S’okay. I just worry for you, man.”

Cas leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “Kay,” he said finally. “But one more questions about that and I’m outta here and you can sleep in the car.”

Dean smiled, his broadest, biggest smile, the one that actually reached his eyes. Cas’ heart clenched painfully, and he tried not to look at him too closely.

It hadn’t always been a problem; it wasn’t like he’d had a crush on Dean since the first time he saw him. But being apart from him for two years, getting to know parts of Dean through texts, postcards and random phone calls – it had done _things_ to him. He had found himself imagining seeing Dean again and having a relationship with him. He had thought of getting to keep the Dean of the letters (not that Dean actually _wrote letters_ ; Cas had just started to call the postcard Dean ‘Dean of the letters’ because it had a nice ring to it and he needed a name for that part of Dean), the one that sometimes talked about feelings and fears, and all the stuff the real Dean, the one he had seen the last time two years ago, would shrug off.

Saying that Dean had come back looking like a man was probably stretching it, but Cas couldn’t help. Dean did definitely not look like the boy he had been; and Cas didn’t buy the ‘not a girl not yet a woman’ crap; so ‘man’ it probably was. Dean might still have a bit of the chubby cheeks he used to have, and Cas still had some inches on him, but somehow, when he looked at his best friend, he felt like he was actually looking at an adult male person. And that, on top of all, confused the hell out of him. And it sure as hell did not make anything easier on him.

Because suddenly he _wanted_ Dean; wanted him like he normally wanted the hunters that crossed his paths. Before, Cas had told himself that it was a stupid infatuation, absence making the heart grow fonder and all that; he had thought that his crush would wear off when he would see Dean the next time, because then he’d see the normal Dean again and would be annoyed with him and everything would be okay. Instead, Cas found himself being fascinated with Dean’s swagger, the surety in his steps. Being attracted to Dean’s looks was about ten times worse than only being attracted to his thoughts; Cas thought it didn’t make him much better than the countless girls that had staggered under Dean’s flirting and finally fell into his bed.

“Cas, buddy, you okay?” Dean’s voice filtered through his thoughts, just like it always did.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You just spaced out there for a bit. Didn’t know you still do that. You have to watch out, man. It could get you killed on a hunt.”

Cas opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but closed it again. Even though he knew Ellen was downstairs at the bar and not up here, he didn’t feel really comfortable talking about hunting; he still hadn’t told her that he would eventually leave to do what his father had done, and what she didn’t want him to do; and he feared that she would hate him for that, so he never told her.

“Let’s not talk about that either,” Cas decided and tried a smile, “d’you wanna hang at the bar? Ellen tolerates it by now, as long as I don’t hog the pool table or fuck with the hunters.” Realizing what he just said, he went white. “Er. Like, you know. Leave them alone and all that. She thinks if I stay away from them I won’t get ideas.”

Dean looked at him strangely for a second, and it dawned Cas that if he’d had said nothing, Dean wouldn’t even have noticed the double meaning. But seeing Cas stutter and fumble with words, he had caught scent. Dean raised one eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you _actually fuck_ hunters. Damn, Cas, you could’ve told me,” Dean laughed.

“I don’t. Fuck hunters, I mean.”

“Bullshit, Cas. Always going for the hardcore chicks, huh? Why’d hide that from me, it ain’t something you should be afraid to admit,” Dean patted him on the back.

Cas coughed and sputtered, desperately trying to wing it. It was pure luck that while they were actually talking about the same thing, Dean meant female hunters while Cas had meant male ones. Would it have been any other person than Dean, Cas would have at least considered to come out with the truth; but with Dean being who he was, Cas did not waste a thought about it. Instead he grinned weakly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah. Er. You know how it is, gentleman don’t kiss and tell.” He rubbed the back of his neck and had to stifle a sigh when he saw that Dean actually believed what he’d just said.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies, here's the fifth chapter. The sixth will probably be uploaded after Easter, because I am going to visit my family. I'll try to make time for posting, but I can't promise anything. I wish you a happy Easter for those of you who celebrate it, and for those who don't - have a lovely weekend anyway! Take care of yourselves, and maybe tell me what you think about the story so far, either here or on tumblr (thefreakfox.tumblr.com). And now, enjoy! :)

* * *

 

After Dean had tried to scam off money of some hunters for the third time, Ellen had thrown them out of the bar, so now they sat on the porch of the backyard. Much to Cas’ despair, Dean had somehow managed to grab some bottles of beer without Ellen noticing. He sometimes wondered why his best friend seemed so hell-bent on maneuvering himself in situations like that, when he would almost definitely get in trouble for what he was doing, especially when he often also tried to show Ellen that he could be a good guy. But all his despair did not stop Cas from enjoying the beer; so probably he wasn’t really one to judge.

“So,” Cas started and stared out into the darkness, “why did your dad not sent you to Bobby?”

Dean hesitated only for a second, and then he shrugged. But just as Dean could read Cas, Cas could read him too.

“He did send you to Bobby, didn’t he?”

Dean sighed and leaned his head on the bottle he held in his hand.

“Yeah, he did. I was actually already on the way to Bobby’s… but then I thought… well. I thought. Dad won’t come here anymore because he fought with Ellen, and you won’t leave before you’re finished with school, and Dad won’t let me go on hunts alone until I’m at least eighteen and I thought… that this was probably the only chance I’d ever get to see you for the next year or so. So I called Bobby to let him know that we’d stay at the Roadhouse. I needed to see you, man. I missed you. And I was afraid that Ellen wouldn’t want me and Sam here when I told her that Dad had sent us to Bobby. So I thought if I lied to her and it came out later, Dad can’t give her shit about it because she didn’t know.”

Cas couldn’t stifle the fuzzy feeling that spread in his stomach no more than he could stifle the smile that spread upon his face, even though he was already beginning to worry how everything would turn out in the end. He bumped his shoulder into Dean’s and tried to think of something to say to take Dean’s mind off it, but couldn’t really think of anything.

He didn’t expect it to be that hard, having feelings for Dean. But he also didn’t expect that Dean would actually learn how to use his words outside of postcards, so maybe he couldn’t be blamed for being blindsided.

“Dude, I totally forgot!” Dean suddenly exclaimed. “Your presents! Hey, let’s get upstairs; see if we can catch Sam and Jo somewhere, then you’ll get your presents. There’s one I don’t think Ellen should see.”

Without waiting for Cas’ answer, Dean stood up, stashed the remaining bottles under the porch and held out his hand for Cas to take. Since Cas couldn’t really think of something else to do, he complied and together they went into the house.

***

“That one’s from me,” Sam said and handed Cas a small package that was wrapped into the cartoon sections of a newspaper. Cas carefully unwrapped it – Dean could roll his eyes all he wanted, but he wouldn’t let himself be rushed; besides, he actually wanted to read the cartoons later on – and smiled when he saw what it was: a small amulet on a leather band.

“Thanks, Sam. It’s awesome.”

Sam smiled and let his hair fall into his face. “I wanted to get you the same Dean has, but I couldn’t remember where I got it, so I got you this one. It’s an angel’s wing, see?”

Dean snorted, so Jo punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up, Dean. I think it’s sweet. And it suits him, too,” she said, “because Castiel is an angel’s name. The one Dean has fits him too, because the face of the thing is almost as ugly as Dean’s.”

Not it was Sam’s turn to snort, and Cas chuckled. “Don’t insult the Samulet, Jo.”

“Samulet?” Both Winchesters looked equally confused.

“Yeah. Well. Sam gave it to you, didn’t he? And it’s an amulet. So, Samulet,” Jo explained because Cas was busy blushing. He’d never intended to call the monster-god-thingie Dean wore by the name Jo and he had invented for it, but it had just slipped out.

“Okay, whatever. Now open mine.”

The present was bigger than the one Sam had given to him, and a whole lot heavier, too.

“C’mon, dude, open it. I wanna see if you like it.”

Cas grinned and unpacked it agonizingly slow, just to mess with Dean who nearly vibrated of excitement. Under the paper was a slim rectangular cardboard box, the surface having a slightly polished look to it, as if someone had tried to make the paper look more like wood. When Cas lifted the box, his breath stopped the second time this day.

“Dean Winchester, are you actually _insane_?” he whispered. In front of him lay the most beautiful knife – _Tanto,_ his mind supplied, it was a tanto – he had ever seen. There were sigils carved into the blade, some of which Cas knew, and others that looked altogether alien. The handle was of dark wood, wrapped in black leather. With the dark inlay of the box, it made the blade (silver, Cas guessed) almost glow. The tanto was probably the most beautiful and at the same time the most deadly thing Cas had ever seen, his father’s angel blade included. Cas took it out of the box carefully. From what he knew of blades, it was perfectly balanced. The grip he had on the handle felt incredibly right, and Cas was almost unwilling to put it back into the casing.

“Where did you get this? I mean, it must’ve cost you a fortune. This is… wow.”

It was hard work to lift his eyes from the weapon, but the smile Dean gave him when he did was worth it.

“Did you see the engraving on the other side of the handle? It looks kind of ugly, but I wanted to do it myself, “ Dean said, purposely ignoring Cas’ actual question.

Cas lifted the blade once more and turned it around. Dean was right, the writing looked kind of crude, but that didn’t really matter. What mattered was what the writing said:

_Don’t fuck up._

Cas hadn’t really expected something kitschy, but ‘Don’t fuck up’ was so very Dean that it almost hurt. He laughed and shook his head.

“Fuck, thank you, Dean,” he said, leaning forward to hug Dean and only remembering in the last second that he still held the tanto.

“Easy there, Gordon Ramsay,” Dean joked, took the blade out of Cas’ hands and put it in the box again before he let himself be grabbed in a tight hug.

“You are insane and you will have to tell me eventually how much that thing cost you, but right now I am way too happy to worry about that,” Cas mumbled in his ear when they hugged. Dean only laughed and leaned back again, probably fearing for his manliness when he hugged any longer.

“I kind of found it somewhere, okay? Maybe I’m not a full grown hunter yet, but people do owe me already. So I pulled some strings, called in some favors. We all know you want to go be a hunter someday, so I thought before you take off, better give you a weapon that protects you, since you seem so fixed on using knifes instead of guns.”

“Well I for one didn’t know that, so thank you, Dean. And while you’re already explaining, mind to tell me why you’re here instead of Bobby’s?” Ellen’s voice shocked them all into silence.

***

When Ellen stepped out of the shadows, while her face held betrayal and hurt, her voice seethed with anger. With tears in her eyes, she turned to Cas.

“Or you, Cas. Do you maybe want to tell me why you want to get yourself killed, just like your dad? And why you want to drag my daughter into it?”

Cas stood up, the box with the tanto still cradled in his hands. In the background, Dean shooed Sam and Jo out of the room, not sure if what followed was something they should actually see. Then he came back, standing behind Cas. However it would turn out, he would stay with him.

“Ellen, I… I’m sorry, okay? I would’ve told you eventually. I was waiting for the right time. It just didn’t… I didn’t want you to… look, I’m sorry. I will leave tomorrow morning. I understand that you might not want me here anymore, so that’s okay. I’m just. I’m gonna. I,” Cas’ speech had turned faster and faster, his breath and voice catching in his throat. Dean saw that he was shaking, and for a moment he only wanted to wrap his arms around Cas and tell him things would be okay.

Only they wouldn’t be, not now. Dean cursed himself for bringing the weapon into the house, for even coming to the Roadhouse in the first place. He was only ever trouble.

“It’s my fault, Ellen. I was the one who convinced Cas to train. To become a hunter. It wasn’t his fault, okay? If you want to punish someone, punish me. Throw me out of the house, I don’t care. But please. Not Cas.”

Ellen shook her head, and Cas was stunned when he saw that she was smiling through her tears.

“I won’t punish any of you, you stupid teenagers. Come here.” She opened her arms and held Cas and Dean tightly against her. “You are just like your dads, do you two know that? And like Jo’s. They were all so young, and so sure of themselves. And now the only one alive is John. I’m not forbidding you to fight because I don’t think you can’t do it, Cas. John was right, you have hunter’s blood in you. I just don’t want to have to bury you just like I buried your dad, and Jo’s. I could never do that.”

She pressed a kiss onto Cas’s cheek, before she turned her face to Dean.

“And you, Dean Winchester. How stupid do you think I am? Not realizing that your Dad would never sent you here? The next time at least have the balls and come out with it.”

Hugging them tighter once more before releasing them, Ellen gave them both a slap on the head.

“You stupid boys, thinking you are immortal. And you don’t think for one second about the people that love you, how they will suffer when you’re gone. What about Jo, huh? Or Sam? What would they do if you died? Did you ever think for a second about that?

“No, I will not punish you. But I will tell your father that you disobeyed, Dean. And we will figure something out to train you properly, Cas. Maybe you’ll stay with Bobby, or another hunter. Or maybe they’ll come here. Sam could finish up school with Jo, you know. I will have to talk to your father about that, but for now, we’ll leave it at that. Get your siblings; you’ll all sleep in the same room tonight either way. I know you. Go.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all the kudos and nice comments, it really means much to me! You are incredible people :)

* * *

 

“You sure you’re ready?”

“Yes, Ma.”

“Really? I could call Bobby, you know. Tell him you’ll come later this year. You don’t have to go when you don’t feel like it. Just because Dean is a hunter doesn’t mean you have to be one, too.”

“Ma. It’s okay. I want to do this, okay? And I’ll miss you and Jo, and I know I can come back any time I want, if I decide it’s not for me. But for now, I have to do this.”

Cas shouldered his duffel bag again. He hadn’t taken much stuff, just some clothes, his father’s blade and the tanto Dean had given him for his birthday, a few books and a journal. The greyhound bus he would take to Bobby’s (only one state over, so it wasn’t really like it was a long journey compared to the miles any of the Winchesters travelled) was already there and Cas felt anxious. He had stayed put for nearly the half of his entire life, and it wasn’t like he would start travelling and hunting any time soon when he got to Bobby’s, but leaving the Roadhouse, and Ellen, and Jo – leaving the one place he had ever called home – made him nervous. And he wasn’t even factoring in that he would get a real hunter education as soon as he’d arrive at Bobby’s home.

“I have to go, or else the bus’ll drive without me,” he told Ellen and smiled. He hugged her tightly and tried to smile. “Tell Jo I love her, okay? And whenever she stops being angry with me, she can call, or visit. Hell, she can even call when she’s still angry with me, I don’t care.”

Jo hadn’t talked to him in over a week, precisely since the day Cas had announced that he would really leave. He was done with school, his summer job had ended and as soon as he realized that he could actually go, he had called Bobby to make plans. He had expected Jo being angry with him; because she still didn’t understand that with only thirteen, she couldn’t just leave to become a hunter. But he had never expected her to lash out that badly, not talking to him, not looking at him, nothing.

“She feels betrayed, Cas. You’re her older brother, she never really expected you to leave… well, not without her. She will come around, I promise, “ Ellen said.

“It just feels wrong, saying goodbye without her. I wish I could’ve done something to… I don’t know. Make it okay?”

Ellen smiled sadly at him.

“That’s what you get for being a hunter, Cas. People you love will be angry with you, people you save will be afraid of you, and nobody will ever be really thankful, because as soon as you leave they will try to forget that you and the monster you’ve killed even existed. There is no glory in being a hunter. But that is the life you chose.”

She straightened the collar of his jacket and tried to blink away her tears.

“And I’m not saying you can’t come back from it, because you can. You can always come back home.”

Cas took both of her hands to stop her from fussing around more.

“I know. But to come back, I have to leave first, so I’ll do just that. Take care, okay? I’ll call as soon as I arrive at Bobby’s, I promise.”

He kissed Ellen’s cheek one last time and made over to the bus. He halfway expected Jo to come running as soon as he stepped on the bus, but she never came. Life wasn’t like the movies, after all.

But when the bus started driving, his phone beeped.

_You have (1) new text message from: JO_

                I don’t exactly hate you, but I’m still angry with you. Please call when you’re there? Xoxoxo Jo

***

Arriving at Bobby’s had been weird. Cas had never seen the old hunter before, except for some photos Ellen had kept around the house. Still, he wasn’t a stranger to Cas – probably to no one. Bobby was somewhat of a legend in the hunter community; partly because he was getting pretty old for a hunter, and partly because he had this vast knowledge of practically everything. You were a hunter and didn’t know how to kill a monster, or what kind of monster you were up against; you call Bobby and he’d tell you.

Cas had heard so many stories about him that he was getting more nervous for every mile he got closer to Sioux Falls. Bobby was a legend, and for reasons Cas didn’t understand he had agreed to train him. Sure, both Ellen and John had vouched for him (Cas was kind of amazed that they laid their fight to rest for his sake), and he _was_ a Novak and apparently that was enough for many hunters; but Cas still didn’t get how that just made a guy like Bobby take him in. Plus, he’d often heard that Bobby could be pretty gruff, even though from the stories Dean and Sam used to tell him, that wasn’t always the case.

So, when Cas stepped out of the bus, he was prepared for a whole lot of things; but he wasn’t prepared to get bear-hugged by an old man in a dirty old baseball cap.

“Good to see you, son. You look just like your ol’ man, anyone ever tell you that?”

Cas stood there and let himself be hugged, not really knowing what to say. He’d made a little speech in his head, during the drive; he’d wanted to thank Bobby for taking him in, telling him that he knew how big that opportunity was and that he was grateful for it. He’d wanted to tell him that he intended to make him proud.

What he said instead was, “I’m hungry”.

Bobby laughed and righted his cap. “Sure you are, boy. You teenagers scarf down everything there is, don’t you?”

Cas blushed. “I’m eighteen,” he said and cursed himself for sounding petulant.

Bobby laughed again and nodded toward a diner across the street.

“Let’s get some food first, then we’ll drive up to my house and you can tell me why you want to be a hunter, how’s that sound?”

“Yeah, good. I mean – that sounds good. Thank you, Mr Singer.”

“Call me Bobby, son. Everybody does.” Bobby gave him a slap on the back and off they went.

***

“So. How is he? Tell me everything!”

“Hello to you, too, little sister. You’re not angry anymore, I take it?”

“I’m fucking furious, Cas –“ Cas could hear a distant _language, Joanna Beth!_ and chuckled, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know everything. How does the house look? Are there any, I don’t know, stuffed monsters? Artifacts? Weapons? C’mon, tell meeee!”

“Stuffed monsters? You are honestly asking me if there are some _stuffed monsters_ around?”

“Yeah, hey, why not? I mean it’s Bobby. Talk is he’s got a fully equipped panic room in his house, so why not monsters?”

Cas chuckled again. From where he was– lying in Bobby’s guestroom on the bed, feet still on the ground, he couldn’t see that much, and if he was honest with himself, he had been too nervous to really take in his surroundings when he’d arrived.

“I don’t know, Jo. Haven’t had that much time to look around, I haven’t even unpacked and stuff. Tell you what, I call you as soon as I see any stuffed monsters, how’s that sound?”

“You better call before that, Cas. Mom and I expect at least weekly updates. I gotta go now, Mom needs my help. Love you, bye!”

With that, she ended the phone call and Cas was left with his thoughts – at least, until he heard the floorboards creak. It’s weird, getting used to a new house and all that. In the Roadhouse, he could match practically every sound with the location and the person who made it; now, he had to get up and look. In the hall, he nearly stumbled into Bobby; how long the old hunter has stood there, probably listening in to Cas’ phone call, Cas couldn’t say.

“Stuffed monsters, huh?” Bobby didn’t even try to hide the fact that he heard some of the conversation.

“Yeah, dunno. It’s Jo,” Cas deflected. “I want to go for a run, get to know everything. Any place I should stay out of?”

“Nah, you should be good, son. Be back before it gets dark, okay?”

Cas nodded and Bobby turned around to leave him.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

 

 

The next morning began with pancakes, coffee, and orange juice. Cas, who hadn’t really eaten much the day before, was happy to dig in. He was still unclear on how things worked here, so when he had gotten hungry last night, instead of going to the fridge and seeing what was in there, he’d just gone to sleep. They probably needed to talk about that, and other things – cleaning and stuff. Cas wasn’t the most organized person he knew (that award still belonged to Sam, the kid was a neat-freak) but Bobby’s place was a mess. Not in a really bad way, though; Cas felt already a bit at home.

The silence during breakfast wasn’t really awkward, but a big difference to the chatter Cas was used to. Mornings in the Roadhouse had been hectic during school days; Jo always a bit late and Cas always a bit early, so both of them were pretty annoyed when they got in the car to drive to school; and during vacation and week-ends, the mornings mostly were long, comfortable talks with breakfast, when Ellen, Jo and him discussed what had to be done during the day and stuff like that.

Bobby seemed content to just sit there and drink his coffee, so Cas was hesitant to strike up a conversation. He wrecked his brains for a conversation starter, but came up completely empty. Just as he was about to give up and wait for Bobby to end the breakfast, the old hunter cleared his throat.

“So. You mind telling me why you want to become a hunter?”

Cas was startled by the question. He’d honestly never thought about it. Not really, at least. Between Ellen telling him he shouldn’t be a hunter and all the people around him that were hunters, between Dean showing him how to use a gun and the guy who’d sent him his father’s angel blade, between him deciding to honor his father’s memory… Cas suddenly looked up, sure that he’d found the right answer.

“I want to honor the work my father did,” he said, proud of his answer.

“Well, that’s a load of bull if I ever heard one. You want yourself get killed because your Da killed some monsters before they turned the tables? Try again, kid. Why d’you wanna be a hunter?”

Cas looked at him, his blue eyes flashing defiantly. Yes, he had maybe never really thought about why he wanted to be a hunter – most of the hunters became what they were now because a monster killed someone they loved; he didn’t see why his answer shouldn’t be as good, seeing as it was practically the same.

“My Dad. I don’t care if you think that answer’s good enough or not. When he died, I got his blade, and I intend to use it. If you didn’t want to teach me, you just could’ve said so. What’s the use in getting me here just to tell me my reason isn’t good enough?”

Cas stood up, his chair nearly tipping over. He was breathing heavily now, even though he hadn’t spoken that much. Just as he was about to leave, he heard Bobby chuckle. He turned around, looking disbelievingly – he didn’t think the situation was laughable – only to see Bobby looking at him with something akin to pride.

“You got balls, kid. I like that. Sit down and finish your breakfast. See, there’s a difference between you saying you want to honor what your father did, and you saying you want to use his blade. You have to find a balance between the two; honor will get you killed, and just mindlessly wanting to kill something will get you killed, too.”

Cas moved slowly back to his chair and sat down.

“Yes, Yoda. Obey your orders, I will,” he murmured, more to himself.

“And just for that, laundry duty is yours the next two weeks.”

Cas cursed.

***

 

The first few days weren’t really exciting; Bobby didn’t start teaching him right away. First, Bobby showed him all the nooks and crannies, made him clean up the library and explained to him how he ordered the books. They talked about fridge etiquette, and Bobby took him into town to show him where he should get groceries. They talked to Sheriff Mills (Bobby obviously expected Cas to go out some nights – he said that’s what boys his age should do, go out and get in a bit of trouble) so Cas could get to know her.

Bobby also showed him an old, beat-up car and asked him if he wanted to restore it. Every hunter needed a ride, he explained; and in his view of the world, one that you restored yourself was better than one you just bought – unless it was a car like the Impala, that had history and probably would be given to Dean when his father deigned him worth it.

The car was an old Ford Galaxie sedan, Bobby told him, one of the cars that could give a Chevrolet Impala a run for its money; at least if Cas was good enough in fixing it. It probably wouldn’t look as showy and flashy as the Impala, and since it was a sedan and not the muscle car type, it would never be as impressive as the Winchesters’ ride, but when Cas would be finished with it, Bobby would give it to him, “as a graduation gift,” the old hunter liked to say.

So the first thing Cas learned wasn’t how to kill and identify monsters; it was how to repair a car that looked close to completely totaled. It was hard work, for Cas didn’t know that much about cars. Sure, he’d sometimes watched hunters at the Roadhouse do it, and he was at least able to change tires or the oil. But when he was honest with himself, he didn’t even know half of the stuff Dean knew when he was about fourteen, much less now.

The second thing he learned was to get used to Rumsfeld, Bobby’s dog that guarded the scrap yard. Why Bobby had never told him the dog was there, Cas didn’t know; probably because if he had, he couldn’t have nearly fallen over with laughter after Cas returned from a run and the dog jumped him.

He was wary of Rumsfeld after that; at least for two days. Then, one evening when Cas sat on the porch and stared into the sunset, finding himself missing the Roadhouse and Ellen and Jo terribly, Rumsfeld had come over, put his head in Cas’ lap and had proceeded to drench Cas’ jeans in slobber. Cas had felt better after that.

When the third thing Bobby started to teach him was how to fix up a leaking roof, Cas’ patience ran out.

“When are you gonna start teaching me?” he asked Bobby.

“I already am. You’re just not seeing it,” Bobby replied and made him clean the roof’s gutters next.

***

After a week, they had settled in a routine: Cas got up at seven, and when he’d returned from his run, Bobby made breakfast. After breakfast, Bobby made him do errands around the house, then left him alone for most of the morning. During that time, Cas mostly continued to train himself; mostly building up muscle and training with the tanto Dean had given him for his birthday. The angel blade was still unused, even though Cas had realized that it’d be more wise to train with it before he used it during a hunt. He’d also realized that, at some point, he should probably refer to it as _his_ blade, instead of ‘his father’s’ or just ‘the’ blade.

After lunch, Cas mostly worked on the Galaxie, under the watchful eyes of Bobby and Rumsfeld. Bobby sometimes helped him, but most of the time he was content to just sit there and give comments – some of them more helpful than others. Only when Cas really looked like he didn’t have a clue Bobby stood up to teach him. He’d remember it better that way, Bobby said.

The evenings were filled with work indoors; replacing old manuscripts, mending torn pages, or sorting the books again. At least during that time, Cas had the feeling that he was actually learning something that was connected to being a hunter. He was almost glad that he’d been taking Latin in High School; that way he could understand a good forty percent of the books he was handling. Maybe Bobby would help him learn all the other languages later, he hoped. Dean would probably tease him for that, but Cas had always had a knack for languages; and had he had more time (or had the school provided more language courses) he’d probably taken on some Greek or a similar language during school.

One morning, Cas had just set down to eat his first pancake, somebody knocked on the door.

“Could you get that?” Bobby asked him. “If it’s Rufus, tell him I don’t hide bodies before 1 pm. If it’s anyone else, don’t let them in. ‘Cept for maybe hunters.”

Cas nodded and made his way to the door and opened it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Gee, thanks Cas. Tell me how you really think,” Dean drawled, his back lit up from the morning sun.

“Sorry. I just… wasn’t expecting you.”

“Who is it, Cas?” Bobby’s voice rang from the kitchen.

“It’s Dean,” Cas called back. “But I’m not gonna let him in, just like you said.”

The shock and confusion on Dean’s face made him laugh, and stepped back.

“Just kidding. C’mon in.”

Once in the kitchen, Dean helped himself to breakfast without asking, much to Cas’ amusement when he saw how Bobby rolled his eyes helplessly.

“So, this gonna be a thing now? You turn up wherever Cas is?” Bobby asked Dean after a while.

“Nrrr. Impf ja ngng tsth dokta,” Dean answered through a mouthful of (Cas’) pancakes. When Cas hadn’t been looking, he had stolen one of them and Cas now watched in barely hidden glee how Bobby scolded him.

“Finish eating, Dean, and then please repeat. By the way, where’s your brother?”

“Nah, I was just driving through South Dakota and thought I’d stop by, see how Cas has settled in. And Sam’s sleeping in the car. Had a tough few nights lately, and I didn’t want to wake him. Plus, what d’you mean, ‘a thing’. I don’t follow Cas everywhere, I have better things to do.”

“Well, I know you made your Dad drive frequently to the Roadhouse after you met Cas here. And then he moves here and six days later you turn up. Seems like a thing to me,” Bobby answered, and even though Cas felt his face get quite hot himself, he was kind of delighted that Dean blushed, too.

And with leaving Sam in the car out in the lot, Dean made Cas feel automatically better about Bobby’s place. Not that he had felt bad about it, but a week was too short in his mind to find out if a place that was not the Roadhouse was safe. But Dean obviously trusted the place and Bobby enough to leave his baby brother alone; so the chances were high this was really a good place.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for your kudos, guys. you are all very awesome people! the next chapter will be up sunday, because I'm going away for the next few days, and I won't have any internet where I'm going (huh, that sounds way more dramatic than it actually is). so enjoy this one and see you on sunday! :)

* * *

 

 

Cas skipped his run in the morning in favor of lying in his bed, listening to Dean and Sam breathing. They had pushed the two beds that were in Bobby’s guest room together, just like they had done all those times in the Roadhouse; and it was way too comfortable and peaceful to leave the bed. Sam, (who’d hit what was probably not his last growth-spurt, so he was all lanky limbs and floppy hair) had won last night’s rock, paper, scissor tournament and had therefore acquired the left side of the bed. Cas had lost completely, so he’d been put in the middle of the two beds (and suddenly understood why Sam had been complaining all these years).

Slowly, Dean’s breathing pattern changed, from deep, even breaths towards the ones that announced he would wake soon; and after a few minutes, he opened his eyes.

“Whtcha strng at?” He mumbled and Cas smiled.

“I wasn’t staring. Just looking,” he answered, suddenly feeling completely unafraid.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, then?” Dean asked a bit more clearly.

“You. I haven’t seen you and Sam for some time, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. I missed you, man. You make me feel all girly when I don’t see you for some time.”

“Aw, Dean, you shouldn’t have,” Cas laughed to hide his excitement. Dean had missed him!

“Shuddup, Cassie. We’re probably gonna be away a while; Dad’s got some big hunt lined up and he wants to take us. Wanted to see you before…”

Cas slid a bit closer to Dean, their hands almost touching. He still wasn’t afraid, but he was nervous; this thing - whatever was just happening – it was new, and a bit exciting and maybe a whole lotta scary.

“You gonna call me, Dean? I want to know you’re okay.”

“Sure thing, Cas. I promise.”

“Thanks.”

“Shit I’m still tired. What time is it?”

“Eight a.m. probably? I don’t know.”

“Hrmpf. Why did you wake me?”

“I didn’t wake you.”

“You did. I wake up when people stare at me.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. You can’t actually feel when someone’s looking at you, I read an article some days ago that –“

“Would you two just shut up? Some people try to sleep,” Sam’s voice startled both Dean and Cas, who had momentarily forgotten that they weren’t alone in the room. And lying on their sides, Cas’ back towards Sam and looking at Dean, and Dean looking at him, it had felt like they had just been in their own personal little bubble; well, until Sam woke up, that was. Dean shied away from him and Cas cursed himself. He shouldn’t have moved closer, that had been stupid. Or had it? Dean hadn’t moved away when he’d moved closer. Maybe, if Sam hadn’t woken up…

“Sorry, Sam. I’m gonna go downstairs. Breakfast will be ready in about half an hour, I guess,” Cas said and tried to climb over Dean without touching him.

“I’m gonna come with you,” Dean announced as soon as Cas’ feet touched the ground. Sam was already starfishing on the bed, even though Dean hadn’t left it completely yet, and Cas snorted. He’d better save some breakfast for Sam, because it sure as hell didn’t look like he would get up any time soon, much less in the next thirty minutes.

***

“You’re neglecting your left side, Dean,” Bobby sat on the porch, cup of coffee in his hands, watching Dean and Cas practicing hand-to-hand combat. Sam sat beside him, still looking more asleep then awake, sharing his pancakes occasionally with Rumsfeld.

Half a second later, Cas’ fist collided with the left side of Dean’s ribs.

“Motherfucker!”

“Sorry.”

Cas already sported the beginnings of a black eye where Dean had gotten him hard. Both boys were sweating in the morning sun, having abandoned their t-shirts fairly early in the fight. With Dean favoring his right side, Cas could’ve easily planted a twin to his black eye on Dean’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it; not that he’d ever tell anyone that.

Instead he dodged Dean’s left-right-left combination and tried to kick at his knee, but missed. He tried to get some distance between them, but found himself face-first in the dirt seconds later because Dean had done some sneaky ninja-trick. Trying to get out of Dean’s grip, he wiggled on the ground until he got on his knees, but Dean still wouldn’t let him go, half sitting on Cas’ back, half kneeling on the ground himself. With Dean’s arm around his throat, Cas’ breathing was restricted and he couldn’t really move that much, but he tried to anyway, shifting his weight to the right, trying to get Dean off his back. It only worked halfway; Dean rolled from his back, but took Cas with him so they ended up lying on top of each other, Cas’ back to Dean’s chest, their legs intertwined – and Dean still having his arm around Cas’ neck.

“Oh my god I hate you,” Cas choked out, his fingers clawing at Dean’s arm, leaving angry red marks in the skin.

“Fuck you, you’ve got nails like a girl,” Dean answered, only to hear Sam yelling something about sexist comments.

The sweat between their skin gave a disgusting _squelch_ when Cas tried to slide down Dean’s chest, only finding himself in an even nastier headlock than before. Even though most of Cas’ mind was actually focused on the fight and how to win it, he couldn’t help but categorize all the places they were touching, and how it felt, and oh god if he was getting hard now, nobody would ever let him forget that. He considered tapping out, to spare himself the embarrassment, but got another idea.

Changing his agenda, he stopped trying to get away from Dean and started to press himself against him; the rules didn’t say anything about not fighting dirty, and if he could test out how exactly Dean would react to that – well, that was a nice side effect.

At first, nothing happened, even though Cas could almost feel Dean’s confusion. It looked like Cas had to step up his game, so he started wriggling and rubbing, his ass missing Dean’s crotch _just so_. He felt Dean go stiff, but he still didn’t let him go, so Cas went to his last reserve, starting to let his breath hitch a little bit, then making a sound that could easily be mistaken as a moan.

What happened after that was too fast for Cas to really process it; he only felt how Dean nearly catapulted him away, and the next thing he knew, he was panting and kneeling on the ground, Dean standing a few feet away, looking downright murderous.

“Dean? Everything okay?” He asked tentatively, shooting a quick glance at Sam; Dean’s little brother was always a good indicator for things Dean felt and didn’t want to share. Sam glared at him almost as hard as Dean did. Cas hunched his shoulder.

He moved towards Dean, but his best friend stumbled backwards.

“Keep away, asshole,” Dean said hoarsely. Sam stood up and moved beside him.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t –“Cas didn’t know what to do. He’d kind of expected Dean to be spooked, but he’d never expected him to look that disgusted and shocked.

“Sammy, get your stuff, I guess we wore out our welcome,” Dean’s voice sounded far away to Cas.

“I’m going for a run,” Cas said, whistling to get Rumsfeld to his side.

Bobby still sat on the porch, silent.


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

Cas ran like he had never run before in his life. He felt the stones under the soles of his shoes, branches snapping at the bare skin of his arms and chest; but it didn’t matter. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up majorly and now Dean was pissed and probably hated him. Cas had always known that Dean was as hetero as they came, so he’d known that his crush on him was all in vain – but never had he seen Dean being so shocked about something Cas did.

But for all of Dean’s heterosexuality, Cas had never thought his best friend as a homophobe. Carelessly sexist sometimes, maybe; and in his head he heard Sam’s voice, telling him that it didn’t matter that someone was a bit sexist or carelessly sexist or whatever, it was still sexist, and then the dam broke and Cas stumbled to the next tree, sliding down to the ground and he was sobbing.

Rumsfeld went up to him, his big head shoved between Cas’ arms and his head. The dog made that rumbling dog-sound that wasn’t a bark or a sneeze, but something in-between; and Cas’ couldn’t help but laugh. Granted, it was a very wet laugh, bordering on a sob, but it was some kind of laugh. Dirt and tears streamed down Cas’ face, and he took Rumsfeld’s head between his hands.

“I fucked up so badly, dude. Even Sam was staring at me like he hated me. I didn’t even know Sam could look like that. And Dean… god, I don’t think I can fix this one, Rumsfeld. What if he really hates me? I can stand him not loving me, but hating me? And it felt like we were so close this morning. I don’t understand humans sometimes, Rumsfeld.”

The dog cocked his head and sneezed in Cas’ face.

“Wow, thank you for your compassion,” Cas wiped his face, probably only spreading slobber, dirt and tears.

Cas leaned his head on the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes. By the time he’d return, Dean and Sam would most likely be gone; and it hurt like a motherfucker to think that he wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to them. It was almost a ritual for them by now, Cas helping to pack the car, hugging Sam, ruffling his hair; hugging Dean a little bit longer and whispering the promise that they’d call each other, and that they’d seen each other again soon. Clapping Dean on the back one last time and standing in the driveway until he couldn’t even see the dust clouds anymore that the Impala left behind.

And now – now he would have nothing of it. Fuck, worst case scenario was that he wouldn’t have anything of it anymore, no more Sam, no Dean. No friends. No Dean.

Another sob wrenched through his chest. He’d rebelled against Ellen; because Dean made being a hunter look like something good, and admirable and exciting - and for what? Only to have his heart broken by his own stupidity? Only to end up alone on the forest floor, with an old, slobbering dog as company?

“Castiel Novak, you’re a pathetic little shit,” he mumbled to himself.

After some long minutes that he spend staring at a bush, petting Rumsfeld, and wallowing in self-pity, Cas took a deep breath. He needed to make a plan. Whatever would happen to their friendship, he’d cross that bridge when he got there (and damn him, already repeating Bobby’s weird wisdom). For better or for worse, he needed to go on, and for that, he needed a plan. And a shower. And he definitely needed to call Jo.

When he arrived at Bobby’s, Cas answered his inquisitive stare with a “I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?” and went inside to lock himself in the bathroom.

***

“So, you’re telling me what exactly? You kind of revealed your big gay rainbow crush and Dean went ‘ew’ and fled the scene?” Jo’s voice sounded tinny; given the time she was probably at the mall, giving grown-up boys nightmares.

“No, it wasn’t like that. We had a moment this morning. And then we had training and I thought I could win if I scared him off, but I also thought maybe, if it didn’t scare him off, I had a chance?”

“And you also thought it’d actually be a good idea to beat him up a little bit and then act like a sweaty horny pornstar?”

“No, I didn’t do that.”

“…”

“Well, a bit maybe. But I didn’t mean it that way. Kind of. Why am I even asking you? You’re thirteen, you know nothing.”

“… Jon Snow.”

“What now? Who is Jon Snow?”

“Stop pitying yourself and start reading A Song of Ice and Fire. And don’t you dare start the TV series before you read the books.”

“…”

“Listen, Cas,” Jo’s voice was very serious all of a sudden, all the joking gone from it. “I’m not saying you should do nothing, but have you maybe thought about the possibility that both of you overreacted?”

“You didn’t see Sam’s face, Jo. I didn’t even know he could do that serial killer face.”

“C’mon, if someone did something that unsettled you that bad, I would probably make the same face. Younger siblings can protect, too, you know? Just because everyone thinks we need protecting doesn’t mean we can’t do it, too. After all, we do have great role models.”

Cas laughed a little bit and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know, Jo. It just seems so unlikely, you know? Dean never overreacts. And he looked so pissed and scared at the same time, like, I don’t know. He looked like I felt when Joey Miller acted like he wanted to kiss me in senior year, only to make a point about how he hated faggots. Like he was the one who was gay and tried to hide it.”

“Ever thought that might be true?”

“Aw, come on, Dean Winchester is not gay. Don’t be stupid.”

“Just sayin’. Anyway. Just, I don’t know. Text him before you go to bed, just that you’re sorry or something. Whatever. So he knows you didn’t stop talking to him. And then wait. Everything’ll be okay, Cas. I promise. I have to go now, there’s someone bullying that one kid from seventh grade. I love you, Cas. Take care. And don’t forget to call Mom, yeah? Bye.”

***

Cas _did_ sent a text to Dean that night. It took him nearly one hour to get it right, changing a lonely _Sorry_ into a _Please don’t leave me Dean, I’m sorry_ to a _I never meant to do anything wrong please forgive me_ to a hundred more, getting angry ( _Fuck you Dean I never meant to fall in love with you)_ and desperate ( _I’ll do anything you want just please forgive me Dean_ ). Finally, he stuck with his first one, realizing that he’d never manage to put what he felt into words, no matter how hard or how long he tried.

When he woke up the next morning, he grabbed his phone before he even opened his eyes. His hope wasn’t betrayed.

_You have (1) new message from: THE DEAN_

S’okay. I just need time. Don’t call.

Cas didn’t know whether to laugh or cry about that, but it didn’t matter because Bobby announced three things over breakfast this morning: it was time Cas learned how hand-to-hand actually worked, Bobby would teach him other hunter-y things, and his first shift at the Police Department would start at eight p.m. While the first two things were actually not that surprising (Cas had hoped Bobby was testing him somehow, finding out how much Cas actually knew – Cas just hadn’t expected to fuck up that badly) the third thing did throw him off.

“I didn’t apply for a job at the PD.”

“I know, but you got it anyway, ain’t that a fucking surprise. Now go and clear the guestroom, your teacher will arrive this evening.”

“My teacher?”

“Son, do you actually listen when people talk to you? I said you had to learn hand-to-hand, and I said you wouldn’t learn it from me. I’m too old for that kind of stuff. But I’m going to teach you how to track down animals and how to use a gun. About time you pack that toothpick away.”

Cas opened his mouth to protest, but Bobby shot him a look that rivaled Ellen’s, so he closed his mouth again and ate his cereals.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suprise, my dearies! I've kind of accidentally wrote another chapter for the story, so now instead of 16, this fanfiction now counts 17 chapters. I hope you like this one, too - enjoy!

* * *

Aundrea was short, had bright red hair and nearly killed Cas the first time he opened the door. At least the punch in the gut felt like it. While he was lying on the floor, she gently stepped over him (laced boots, the heels nearly missing Cas’ face) and called out to Bobby why he’d taken a wimp as an apprentice hunter that had no self-preserving instincts whatsoever.

He hadn’t much time to stare at her suspiciously, however; it was his turn to make dinner, and after that he’d take his bike to Sioux Falls’ police department. It would take him a while to get there, because he didn’t want to take a car (just some weeks and the Galaxie was already _his_ car in his head, and he would only drive another one in an emergency) so if he didn’t hurry, he’d be either hungry or late.

So he chopped onions and garlic for the chili he wanted to make (he knew that it wouldn’t taste as good with the short time he had, but it would be passable), blinking his way through the inevitable tears that came with cutting onions. Ellen once had showed him how to do it without looking like your dog had died afterwards, but Cas hadn’t listened to her; and Jo simply resorted to wearing goggles when it was her turn. He never minded having to cook; he found it soothing and it was nice to do things and having time to think about other stuff. Plus, he actually felt useful when he cooked.

Dinner was a short affair, three bowls and the pot with chili on the table, and Cas listening to Aundrea and Bobby discussing hunter things. Then it was time for Cas to pack his stuff and drive to the police station.

The work he had to do turned out to be pretty easy; they needed someone to man the phone. In case police was needed, he was to contact the units that were free, and if one of the callers had a serious problem, Cas transferred them to the real emergency hotline. In short, he was kind of a human answering machine – but he could also see why Bobby had wanted him to work here: to pick up cop-speak, their behavior and all that. Plus, he learned about the hierarchy in a police station, which would all come in pretty handy when he had to impersonate a FBI agent or someone like that later on in his hunting career. And Sherriff Mills turned out to be pretty awesome.

She sat with him through the first week, claiming she was behind on paperwork and worked better when she was at the station. So every night when Cas clocked in at eight, she was already sitting at the desk, reading through reports or doing other stuff, and Cas sat next to her, mostly doing nothing; because for all that Sioux Falls was the biggest city in South Dakota, there wasn’t much happening. He got pretty good at directing and re-directing police units; apparently he had a knack for distances and locations, so when somebody called he had no difficulties figuring out which unit was closest to the caller.

During the really dull hours – around 3 a.m. – he talked with Sherriff Mills about everything and nothing. Naturally, she was curious what brought a teenager to live with grumpy old Robert Singer, since he was known for being more of a recluse, and Cas had to scramble to come up with a good story. Eventually, he told her that he’d taken a gap year, figuring himself out, and since Bobby knew Ellen, he’d volunteered to let him stay with him until Cas figured out what he actually wanted to do. Although Sherriff Mills (she’d asked him to call her Jodie) seemed a bit unconvinced, she didn’t say anything; so Cas thought they were okay.

Cas’ routine changed again; when he came home from the night shift at 6 a.m., he normally slept until ten, then got up to eat breakfast and train with Aundrea. She made him meditate and do yoga exercises first, claiming it would clear his head and warm up his muscles for the tough part. While he came to like meditating, he couldn’t help but find yoga pretty stupid. But he endured it, because it _did_ warm him up pretty well. And since Aundrea apparently applied a no mercy- strategy for all her students, he needed every help he could get. They trained until three, and then went for a run. When they got back, Bobby had prepared lunch, and afterwards he took over; teaching Cas about guns and monsters. Before Cas left for the next shift, he either slept a bit or worked at the Galaxie; and even though his day was exhausting, it also helped him not to think about Dean.

His best friend still remained total radio silence, so Cas had started to text Sam now and then to get updates about how they were faring. Sam only replied sometimes, and Cas felt bad about it. He still didn’t understand why both Dean and Sam seemed to be pissed. He also frequently called Ellen and Jo, knowing that they would tell him as soon as they heard anything. Plus, he really missed both of them.

Having another two women in his life now made him think about his mother. His real mother; not Ellen. The thing was, Cas didn’t remember anything about her. He’d never missed her, and his dad had never talked about her. When he was little, he’d thought that he maybe never really had a mother, but just kind of dropped on the ground from somewhere and his dad found and raised him. Even then he had known that that was complete nonsense, but it hadn’t stopped him from entertaining this theory now and then.


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

 

“Your boyfriend, Dean – is he still pissed?” Jodie asked one night.

She’d dropped the ‘having to do paperwork’ façade pretty soon, so now she just shared the occasional donut with him, claiming that while she did trust him with the phones, she wanted to be present for any emergency. Cas suspected she just didn’t want to go home.

“Dean’s not my boyfriend, he’s my best friend,” Cas corrected.

“So you say. And, is he?”

“What?”

“Still pissed.”

Cas nodded, then sighed. He’d told Jodie about Dean and Sam some nights ago, when she’d asked about his family. And since then, Jodie wouldn’t stop pestering him about Dean.

“Why don’t you just tell him?”

“I can’t. I know he won’t be angry or disgusted or anything… I think. But I just… I can’t,” he dropped his head and put his fingers in his hair.

“You don’t have to tell him you’re in love with him, Cas. No, don’t look so shocked, it’s pretty obvious from how you talk about him. Just, maybe… tell him you’re gay? God knows it shouldn’t be something you have to tell, but… if he finds out somehow, he’s likely to think you kept it from him and lied to him because you don’t trust him, and how you speak about him tells me he wouldn’t approve of that.”

“He’ll never find out. He won’t,” Cas just said and went to get more coffee.

***

“Left, right, left, left, right, left…ooooh, you missed that, didn’t you?” Aundrea crowed in glee after she’d taken a fist to his right side.

“You said left, not right!” Cas complained after he was able to speak again. For all that Aundrea was small, she packed a mean punch – and reminded him terribly of Jo.

“And you could’ve seen that I would go for your right side instead of the left, if you had cared to see. Don’t listen to my voice, watch my movements. Plus, that trick is pretty old. Didn’t you read A Song of Ice and Fire?”

“Oh my god, why is everyone reading these stupid books?” Cas moaned.

“Suck it up. Come on, again. Up with your fists, angelboy.”

“I am. Not. A. Fucking. Angel,” Cas growled, his anger not only in his voice, but also in his punches. Not that that it would help anything, Aundrea was way too fast for him, and he doubted that a punch would stop her from calling him ‘angelboy’. Ever since she’d found out his full name, she teased him with that.

“Oooh, getting angry, Casti-eeel?”

“Fuck you,” Cas said and _shoved_ , his shoulder colliding with Aundrea’s chest. She stumbled back, obviously not expecting him to react that way, turning a training fight into a real one. She overbalanced, and Cas saw her toppling over before it happened; but with a grace he would probably never possess, she used the speed to turn the fall into a weird backward roll, coming out of it kneeling in the dirt.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Cas,” suddenly her voice is icy, and Cas realized that he made her angry now, really angry.

It had happened before; Cas had a tendency to make people angry by overreacting. He’d done it with Ellen, with Jo, hell, the last time he did it was with Dean. But the important difference was that he only ever did it with people who wouldn’t fight back, wouldn’t punish him for overreacting – up until now. He had another second to form and think a hearty ‘Oh, fuck’ before he was showered in punches; merely the half of it he could block, the others happened too fast for him to even registering them. Then she kicked his legs from under him and he found himself in the dust, her left hand gripping his throat.

“Do not do that again, Castiel. Not until you know that you can actually win. The next time you attack me will either end with you winning or with you in the ER. You got me?”

Cas nodded, and Aundrea let him get back up.

“So, now. Again. Fists up. C’mon, we’re not stopping just because of what happened. I want to start with kicks next week and you have to have your punches down until then.”

***

When Cas got out of the shower after training, his whole body hurt like hell; and he was afraid of how he would feel the next few days. He stumbled into Bobby on his way down, and the old hunter whistled through his teeth.

“Made her angry, huh? Don’t worry son, everyone had to go through that. I know that ain’t helping you now, but see it as part of your training. When you get beat up on a hunt, it’s gonna be worse.”

Cas muttered something inarticulate and shrugged, and Bobby laughed.

“You’re gonna get used to it. Promise.”

Cas shrugged again and went downstairs to search for something to eat. He wasn’t exactly furious about what happened, but it did nag him; especially that neither Aundrea nor Bobby expected him to actually win against Aundrea sometime in the future. Not that Bobby had said that, but Cas felt like it was heavily implied. And he needed to be the best when he started hunting.

He would probably never be as fast as Aundrea, he was already too tall for that; but he could work on his grace and movements, so he resigned himself to more yoga, even though the mere thought stressed him out. He never understood how something that was called names like “The Downward Facing Dog” should make him feel relaxed.

Still muttering darkly to himself he raided the fridge. He wanted a sandwich. While he was searching the bacon he was pretty sure should be in there somewhere, something hard butted him into the knee, then grunted.

“Hey there, Rumsfeld,” Cas said, his head still in the fridge. He needed to become calmer; only he had no idea how he should manage that. Beside Dean, he’d always been the clear-headed one, but it seemed like he was losing that ability pretty fast. Rumsfeld continued to shove into him, now begging for something to eat.

“You are so not getting the last of the bacon, Rumsfeld. Forget it. I got beaten up by a girl today, I need all the bacon I can get.”

“So you think I’m a girl, do you, angelboy?”

Cas gave a jerk and smashed his head against one of the shelves in the fridge. He swore loudly before he turned around.

“You are, aren’t you?” He still had the bacon in his hand, and gesticulated towards Aundrea’s chest. Normally he would’ve been too well-behaved to do it, but he was just so fed up with everything.

“You got boobs, your name’s Aundrea… correct me if I’m wrong but it all points towards female.”

Aundrea stepped closer.

“I’m not a girl, _boy_ ,” her voice made the last word sound like an insult, “I’m a hunter. That’s all that matters. I can make you lie on the floor bleeding in three seconds flat. I can identify and kill more than twenty monsters, and for the others I know how to research. I can make hexbags, summon demons, I can do spells and exorcisms. That’s what matters. Not that I have _boobs_. Now give me the bacon.”

Cas handed it over, still red in the face. It was like having a grown-up version of Jo, only ten times more vicious. He decided that the day Aundrea, Ellen, and Jo would meet, it would be a very sorry day for all of male humankind.

* * *

 

okay, okay, ladies and gents - I have to admit you've been pretty quiet on me for the last few days. and I'm very interested in what you think about Aundrea. maybe tell me, here or [on my tumblr](http://www.thefreakfox.tumblr.com)?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you sooo much for your comments, kudos, and for generally reading this fanfic! everytime I see how many of you read and/or responded, I'm totally amazed :) so thank you for everything ^^

* * *

When he arrived at the station that night, Jodie gave him almost the same reaction as Bobby: she whistled through her teeth.

“Nice shiner you have there, young man. I don’t know if I want you to tell me the other one is worse off, or if I want to lock the guy up that ruined your face. What’s it gonna be?”

Cas mentally added Jodie to the list of women that should never meet each other and tried a smile.

“None of the above, Sherriff. Training accident, it happens.”

Jodie raised an eyebrow and Cas raised his hands.

“No, really. I’m getting training in hand-to-hand combat, and this happened.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you training for? You don’t seem like the vicious guy.”

“Uhm… just. Because. Anger management? It helps me to get my head free. And better I beat someone up in training than in real life, don’t you think?”

He tried an innocent smile again, but saw that it would get him nowhere.

“Anger management, huh? If I was curious, I’d ask myself why a guy that helps old ladies carry their groceries and climbs on trees to rescue kittens would need anger management, but I choose not to be curious and keep the question for another time.”

***

During the fourth week at Bobby’s, Cas made a list.

_ Hunters’ Rules _

_1.)_ _Always put your shoes on first thing in the morning. You can fight without a shirt, but without shoes, it’s hard._

_2.)_ _Check the saltlines everywhere in the house before you go to sleep and after you wake up._

_3.)_ _Learn exorcisms by heart._

_4.)_ _Keep a journal._

_5.)_ _Learn your fake names._

_6.)_ _Learn how to make fake badges._

_7.)_ _Saying you’re sorry doesn’t help._

_8.)_ _Practice fake smile._

_9.)_ _Practice with your blade._

_10.)_ _People don’t like hunters, so don’t expect them to._  
  


One day when he returned to his stuff, he saw that there had been made alterations, one in curly writing, the other one barely legible. He didn’t have to guess who wrote them.  
  


_11.)_ _Eating the last bacon without getting new one = 100 extra push-ups._

_12.)_ _Respect your elders._

_13.)_ _Taking out the trash is your job, boy. Next time you forget it, it lands on your couch._

_14.)_ _Making additions to a list so there aren’t 13 bullet points is okay. Superstition can save your ass one day, angelboy._

He felt embarrassed; especially because Aundrea had gone back to the list a second time; because chiding him about bacon wasn’t enough, she had to leave actual knowledge on his list.

So Cas concentrated on the fourth point of the list, and started a journal. He hid it better than his list.

***

The more Cas trained, the more he realized one thing: he was fundamentally different from most of the hunters he knew. From his experience, most of them had started to hunt because a monster had taken someone from them; and when they realized that their case wasn’t just a one-off, when they realized that there were many more monsters, they started gathering knowledge and started hunting; because the day you see how dark darkness really can be, you cannot look away again.

Then there were hunters like Dean and Sam; hunters in the making because that was what their family did. Trained from childhood (even though he suspected that not every hunter parent held quite as hard a regime as John Winchester did) and a new generation of hunter. He would have been one of those, too, hadn’t his father been killed. But Jo and him, even though they had lost someone, and even though they wanted revenge and had grown up with the knowledge of what went bump in the night – they had never been trained. And he also realized that it had a good side and a bad side; the good was that he was able to be trained in peace, as long as he needed to, so he would be prepared when he started hunting for real; the bad was that he had a disadvantage against hunters who had been trained longer than him. He wasn’t exactly sure how serious other hunters would take him; most of them seemed to have a sort of respect for his name, but that also meant they had high expectations – or they would flat out refuse to respect him because they could think he’d just live off his name.

In the end, it did not really matter how he thought about it; he knew that. But still, it had some influence on how he saw himself. Being an orphan wasn’t something special, not in the world of hunters; but for all Cas knew (and that wasn’t much) he wasn’t even really an orphan; maybe his mother lived somewhere, anywhere.

***

Two months after Aundrea had arrived, she declared over breakfast that there wasn’t much more she could teach him.

“At least not where technique is concerned,” she said and smiled, “the rest is training. Don’t stop with training and you should be fine. Unless you run into a monster that knows martial arts, but I guess those are few.”

Cas stared at her for a moment. Just yesterday she had told him off because his punches and kicks weren’t exact enough for her liking. And now, he was suddenly ready?

“But –“

“No but, Castiel. See, there will possibly be a day when you are better at hand-to-hand than I am; but right now, you’re not. Not because you’re not a good fighter, but because you don’t have the experience that I do. And experience comes with time. I am going to leave today, and you will keep training, and maybe, someday, we will meet again and maybe then we can see who’s better. But until then, that’s all you gonna get. So take care of yourself, angelboy, ya hear me? Won’t do to get your pretty face shredded by a wendigo.”

She stood up, patted him on the back and left.

Cas sat in the kitchen for a long time. Then he started to move his things back into Bobby’s guest room.

***

Even though the training sessions with Aundrea had stopped, it didn’t mean that Cas had suddenly free time on his hands; a bit more than before, maybe, but all in all it wasn’t that much. He still worked the nightshift in the PD, and Bobby still had him do tons of work in the scrapyard. The Galaxie came along nicely, even though it seemed to Cas that for every flaw he repaired, two new ones popped up. The only things that weren’t done yet were the seats (Cas still had no idea how to refurbish them) and the engine block itself. He knew Bobby wouldn’t let him get away with just buying a new one, so he started to learn about how the engine worked and which parts he could reuse.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, we're getting close to end now. I'd say this chapter is only an intermezzo, but somehow it's not really. uch. it's a bit short, I think. I dunno. Enjoy? (and thank you for your comments & kudos & reading this fic!)

* * *

 

One day, when he sat on the porch, Rumsfeld’s head in his lap and a cold beer in his hand (Bobby allowed it now and then, claiming that he had to build up a resistance against alcohol, otherwise no one would take him seriously, talking about something called a “Garth” and “damned sock puppets”) Bobby came and sat down beside him.

“You’re turning into a pretty good hunter, Cas,” he said and clinked his bottle against Cas’, “your Da would be proud of you, I think.”

“You knew my dad? Can you tell me about him?” Cas sat up straight. He’d suspected as much, but nobody he’d ever met had been willing to tell him about Don. Even Ellen had only spilled so much, and up until now he had thought that with her clammed up, he would never know anything about his father.

“There’s not much to tell. A good man, your father. Good hunter. He didn’t talk much, and didn’t mingle much with other hunters. For what he searched, I can’t tell you. But he did search for something, that much is clear. Nobody asks that many questions without looking for something specific. And he loved you. Always took you everywhere he went, as if he was afraid of losing you somehow. Like you would just vanish if he didn’t keep a close eye on you all the time. I don’t know where he came from, he just crashed at the Roadhouse one day, and you were sick and he needed someone to look after you because he didn’t have the time for it; and you didn’t have an older brother or sister who could take care of you. So Ellen took you in. I only saw him once, when he turned up here because he needed some part for the car and some ammunition he couldn’t get that easy legally.”

Cas had been able to keep quiet up until that point; afraid that Bobby would stop telling him about his dad when he interrupted him.

“What kind of car did my dad drive?”

At that, Bobby smiled. “The same Galaxie you are trying to get running. I thought you might want to have it when you get older, so I kept it after your Da had been killed.”

“You got the car? From where? Why? Did you-,” Cas stopped, a thought coming to his head, “did you sent me the angelblade?”

“Naw, I didn’t. Didn’t even know about it until I saw it when you came here.”

Cas dropped his head. He’d been so close… at least he had thought he had been.

“I’m never gonna find out anything about him, ain’t I?” he asked, discouraged.

“There are more important things than that, and your Dad isn’t the reason why I came to sit with you. I can keep on teaching you all sorts of things, but there is one thing you have to understand for all of it to become useful.”

Bobby sipped on his beer and sighed.

“You are different than the other hunters. Most of them have a goal, they search for a monster, they want to kill it. But you… you won’t find the monster who killed your dad. That chance is gone. So you can’t take revenge, and because you can’t, you don’t actually want to kill anyone. Now, don’t get me wrong; I don’t think you don’t want to kill a monster, but thing is… when you go on your first hunt, you have to really want to kill. Not just hurt. You need to want to kill a living being. You have to come to terms with that, because if you don’t, you won’t kill because you can’t. You have the training and the means for it, but it has to happen in your head. If it doesn’t, you won’t aim to kill.”

“What is it with you guys?” Cas asked, “at first you all act like I’m useless and then you all start handing out advice like you’d have to pay for it tomorrow.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna be here long anymore, Castiel. I don’t wanna see you get killed, and Aundrea don’t want that, either. We’re just tryna’ help you. Take the advice, or don’t, that’s up to you.”

Cas nodded. He felt like that, too – like it wouldn’t be long before he left. But he also felt like there was one last thing he was waiting for; so wait he did.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan! I LOVE you guys! your feedback makes me as happy as Cas with a burger <3

* * *

The thing he was waiting for, it turned out, was called Sebastian; and he turned up in the grey morning hours, just as Cas was returning from his shift at the PD, heavily bleeding from various wounds. He passed out on Bobby’s favorite rug and gave Cas the chance to practice his knowledge of first aid. He also gave him the chance to practice how to keep a person from bleeding out.

Bobby (who’d nearly missed all the chaos, had Rumsfeld not started barking) took one look at the young hunter and scoffed. Murmuring something about “another pretty boy hunter”, he told Cas to tend to his wounds while he got the bed ready.

Cas tried to take the role reversal in stride; some time ago, Bobby would’ve sent him to prepare the bed instead of letting him take charge of the wounded hunter. But as much as Cas knew about how to stitch up wounds, and check for poisoning and everything else he had learned since he came to Bobby’s, he was glad when his mentor returned. It took nearly a whole day for Sebastian to wake up and tell them his name and his story.

“It just… it ripped him to shreds. I still don’t know what it was, my best guess is some sort of ghoul maybe. I don’t know much about monsters, but I do know that I want to kill every one of those things so they can’t kill again. It killed my boyfriend. I wanted to marry him, and it killed him. So I killed it. Well, I didn’t kill it alone, there was a guy. Garth, his name was. Pretty weird guy, if you ask me, but he grows on you.”

Bobby sighed and handed Sebastian the bowl of soup Cas had prepared.

“I know Garth. I guess he started to teach you?”

“Yeah, he did. Not much, just the basics. How to kill most of the monsters, and how to look for signs of them. He didn’t want me to hunt, at first. Said I should try and get back to a normal life. Only I couldn’t do that, with my boyfriend dead. He was my life, and he wouldn’t come back, so what chance was there, really, to just return to our house and act like everything was normal, like he wasn’t killed by a monster?”

“And how did you get all… chewed up?” Cas asked, nodding to the bandages that covered both of Sebastian’s arms and the upper part of his torso.

“I was hunting a poltergeist. It seemed an easy enough job, salt and burn. I realized too late that there wasn’t just one of them, but three. And they used my knives against me, and I didn’t know where the graves of the other two were. And Garth gave me your address, when I first started. Said if I ever got in trouble, I could come here and asked for help. So I did.”

Bobby swore a blue streak, then he got up again.

“Cas, stay with him. I’m gonna go call Garth. Talk to him about the poltergeists, and about privacy. Damned sock puppet hunter…”

Castiel was left to stare at Sebastian, until he realized what the other hunter had said.

“So. You fight with knives?”

“Yeah. Some of the other hunters think I’m insane, just fighting with knives and swords, but that’s what I’m good at. Learned it when I was just a kid, and now there’s not much I can’t kill with a knife,” he tried to sit upright and winced, “well, except for poltergeists, apparently.”

“Which kind of knives do you use?”

“Hey kid, is this a conversation or an interrogation? Why do you even bother?”

“Because I started to fight with tantos a few years ago, but I need serious training and I want to know if you’re any good as a teacher. Bobby won’t let you stay here for nothing, and you can’t work, but if you can teach me… I might be able to sort something out for you.”

That Bobby wouldn’t let Sebastian stay was an outright lie, and Cas felt bad for it, but he didn’t want to waste his one-time chance to learn from somebody who knew about knives. Even if he had to lie for it.

“Did you now? You any good with it?” Sebastian suddenly looked intrigued; like Cas was a very interesting animal or something. And he smiled – only a little smile, but it made Cas aware of how good-looking he was. Not like Dean, who had a scruff, unpolished kind of good-looking and even though he knew about his looks, he didn’t parade them around; more like a sleek cat, aware of his looks and proud of them. Whereas Dean had built his bulk to gain strength, everything on Sebastian’s body seemed defined and intentional.

“As good as you get with no real teacher,” he managed to answer.

“Well, I’m banged up; I won’t be of much use to you until I’ve healed, at least not for combat training. But I s’ppose I could teach you some theory, the basics. Just look how you do…” Sebastian looked deep in thought, like he was already planning how to explain certain things to Cas.

“You good here? Normally I would go for a run now but I can hardly leave you here all to yourself. I’m going to be in the backyard; if you need anything, yell.”

With that, Cas stood up and left the room. It was definitely time to call in female reinforcements.

***

“So, big brother. Finally found a boy to scratch your itch?”

“Oh my god, Jo. You’re fifteen, you’re not allowed to talk like that!”

“Oh, come on, Cas. It’s about time to get Dean out of your head. I bet you haven’t heard anything from him, have you?”

“No. Shit, Jo. I still miss him. I miss Sam. I even miss that stupid car. I don’t want to get him out of my head, I want him to come back and for everything to be normal again.”

“Tough luck, buddy. You can’t always get what you want, as the Rolling Stones put it so wisely.”

“I really hate you when you do that.”

“I know. But anyway. The new guy. Sebastian. Tell me about him.”

“He seems nice. Has a few tattoos. Had a boyfriend, but boyfriend got eaten by some monster, so now he’s hunting. He says he fights mostly with swords and knives, and I asked him to teach me. I don’t know much else about him; he only woke up a few hours ago and I don’t want to grill him.”

“Sounds good to me. I only hope you don’t manage another training disaster.”

“Oh c’mon, cut me some slack, okay? It’s not like I have huge experience in any of this. I’m good with praxis, not with theory.”

“… and I didn’t need to know that, thank you so much, Castiel.”

“Get over it. Who was it who talked about scratching itches, huh?”

“Okay, moving on now. D’you have any plans for after?”

“Probably hunting. I feel like I’m almost ready, you know? I guess when I’m done here, I’ll come visit you and Ma, and then I’ll look for a hunt. I don’t know, Jo. I know I’m close, but I can’t really imagine how it will be… it’s weird. Anyway, Sebastian just called; I have to go and see what he wants. Send Ma my love, will you? I love you, little one. Take care of yourself. Bye!”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, here's the next chapter - thank you once again SO, SO MUCH for your comments and kudos! It means the world to me :)

* * *

 

Sebastian, it turned out, wanted to know why Cas had lied to him about staying at Bobby’s. The old hunter had had returned earlier than Cas had thought and had offered to let Sebastian stay as long as he needed to. And now, Sebastian, his only source of information, was completely pissed at him because he had tried to play him.

It took some days (and extensive care; the wounds healed well, but Sebastian could in no way change all his bandages by himself) before Sebastian forgave him.

“I’ve been in your place, you know?” he said. “I probably would’ve killed for anyone who taught me how to hunt; luckily Garth mostly wants hugs, so it didn’t come to the worst.”

He laughed, then grimaced.

“I swear, if you pull out your threads again, I’m going to staple you together,” Cas threatened.

He was glad that Sebastian wasn’t angry anymore; the last few days had been horrible, a dark cloud hanging over the scrapyard and Bobby’s house. Plus, it wasn’t exactly easy to gain insight in your patient’s health when he refused to talk to you.

“I’m not going to move… much. Guess I have to find new ways to get you to touch me, huh?”

Cas startled. “Pardon me?”

“Oh c’mon, you heard me. I am gay, and I bet my sweet ass you are, too. So why don’t we skip the initial pleasantries and get to the good part. Unless you got a boyfriend?”

“I’m not… I don’t,” Cas spluttered.

He thought of himself as fairly certain of his sexuality, and he thought that he had his way with words, but Sebastian’s downright straightforwardness made him lose his cool faster than a hot summer day.

“Uhm. Too direct for you?” Sebastian fidgeted a bit, looking almost a bit unsure.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Cas said and tried a smile.

“Okay, then how about you forget what I just said, or maybe think on it?”

Cas only nodded. Apart from Jodie and Jo, nobody had ever addressed his sexuality in such a direct manner. When he used to pick up hunters at the Roadhouse, there wasn’t much talking involved, and since he lived at Bobby’s (and especially after the clusterfuck that had been his last training session with Dean) he hadn’t much thought about it.

Dean, he thought, would probably laugh at him, but despite the fact that Cas liked to have sex now and then, he didn’t crave it. It was nice, sometimes; but thinking about that you’d rather cuddle with your best friend than fuck a stranger was rather notoriously ruining the experience.

The first time Cas had noticed that his crush wasn’t about groping Dean anymore (well, at least not only about groping him) but more about doing all those weird couply things that are mostly only ever amazing when you’re a couple, or when you want to be one, he’d almost had a nervous breakdown. A crush based on pure attraction and need, he could handle, but he felt more and more like his crush had crossed the border into falling in love land.

“Uh. Cas? Hello? Anyone home?”

Sebastian’s voice and his hand that was waving in Cas’ face stunned him out of his head.

“Sheesh, you did space out on me for a minute, didn’t you? I wonder what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Cas blushed and looked down on his feet.

“Nothing,” he said, tentative, than a bit firmer, “I was thinking about nothing. I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Sebastian laughed, obviously delighted that he’d made Cas blush.

“I was asking you about going outside. It’s a nice day, and I’m getting a bit restless. Plus, you could show me your training routine?”

Cas hesitated for a moment. Sebastian was still banged up bad, but when he didn’t strain himself, the hunter should probably be okay. The only question was, did he really want to be watched during his training?

“Let’s get you outside. The moment you stop sitting still, it’s indoors for you again, got me?”

“Yes, nurse.”

***

Training with Sebastian – or at least under his supervision – was actually pretty great, Cas had to admit. He was a good teacher, not sparse with critique; but he always did it in a way that Cas understood, that he could use.

At first it was frustrating, too; realizing he had a wrong grip on his swords, and the concentration he needed to change that. Getting a lecture because he had neglected muscles that were, apparently, important for good sword fighting. And through all that, Sebastian’s calm voice, coming from a rocking chair on the back porch.

But Cas felt himself getting better, so in most ways it was a gratifying experience. And Sebastian seemed to heal up good, as if the hours in the fresh air helped him getting back to his old self.

The new training also helped Cas taking his thoughts away from Dean again, something he still desperately needed. Some days, he was sure that he’d seen the last of the Winchesters for the rest of his whole life the day he had decided to act like a (horny) lunatic. These days he spent furiously working out, going on runs that even left Rumsfeld exhausted.

He started to talk with Sebastian about these things, something that he’d never done before with someone outside family (even Jodie hadn’t gotten much out of him, despite her cunning interrogation power). How he was afraid that Dean would hate him forever; how he would gladly take him back without being more than just best friends, if that only meant he got to see him again. How he missed Sam, because the youngest Winchester was just as important for him as Dean was, despite being younger. But then again, Jo was, too; and both kids had a special place in his heart. Together with Ellen (and Bobby, he realized), they were his family; and the pure thought of never seeing them again made him almost sick.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, second to last chapter before this part of the trilogy ends. I'm a bit nervous about what you'll think, so don't leave me hanging and maybe leave a comment? as always, thank you for your attention you give to this story, it's incredible.

* * *

 

The talking slowly evolved to more: hands touching over the dinner table to pass the salt; small, playful shoves that felt more like holding onto the other than shoving him away; long, long looks that seemed to cross not only the room, but eons of time.

When it happened, it happened almost naturally. It was a scenario that Cas had always imagined Dean and him sharing– Sebastian standing behind him, covering his back. He wanted to show Cas how to get in a more natural, relaxed stance when he was training; and apparently the hands-on approach was easier than just a verbal explanation. Cas could feel Sebastian’s heartbeat at his back, Seb’s breath on his neck. The hunter’s hands cradled his. It had been a long time since Cas had been touched so fully by someone.

Sebastian didn’t speak or move, so Cas looked over his shoulder. Their eyes met, and seconds later, they kissed. Cas didn’t move away afterwards, just stood there. Sebastian didn’t say a word.

***

They kept doing it, small kisses when they met in the hallway, and slow, languid ones after the night had set in and Bobby went to sleep.

It wasn’t that Cas was ashamed of it, he tried to explain. “But I don’t want Bobby to see. I feel like I betrayed him somehow; like I have given up on Dean, and I don’t think Bobby would like that. I mean, not the fact that I don’t try to be with Dean, but that it seems like I’ve given up on Dean in general, in waiting for him to come back.”

“Have you?” Sebastian asked. They were lying on the sofa that was Cas’ bed, the moonlight coming through the window.

“Have I what?”

“Given up on Dean.”

“… I think you should go to sleep now.”

Sebastian stood up, his movements more graceful now because his wounds were healing. Cas could only imagine how he looked when he fought; all grace and beauty, and it all ended in death.

“You will have to decide eventually, Cas. I won’t force you to, that’s not my right. But I won’t wait forever, and I won’t waste my heart on someone who can’t leave the past alone. Good night.”

Cas watched his shadow go away, and he stared at the doorway a long time after.

***

Cas felt like he was being slowly ripped in two. It wasn’t like the inner conflict between becoming a hunter and making Ellen happy – a conflict that had had more than two outcomes. But this, this was different. He knew that when he decided for Sebastian, he wouldn’t ever have Dean, because letting him go – letting the idea of a life with Dean go – would hurt too much for Cas to ever risk repeating it again. And he didn’t know if he was ready for that.

As much as he liked being with Sebastian, his heart and his mind always skipped to pictures of Dean. Would he kiss him like that? How would his hands feel when he’d cup Cas’ face before he kissed him? The easiness with which Sebastian handled this whole – _thing_ (so-called because Cas refused to call it a relationship, knowing that their time was most likely limited to the length of Sebastian’s stay) scared Cas shitless.

For him, it had never been like that. Harsh, unloving make-outs with half-drunk hunters in the shadow of a truck, that was what he knew. Secret stolen kisses behind the bleachers at school, too. Sex that was rudely interrupted by a parent coming home.

But never like this: slow, relishing kisses, and soft touches. Sebastian’s hands that were rough from the handling of weapons, but smooth because he liked to use hand lotion. Whispering and laughter, and a feeling like love that settled right under Cas’ ribs and stayed there. But it wasn’t love, it couldn’t ever be. As much as he wanted his heart to belong to Seb, Cas knew that it never would. Not even if Dean didn’t want him and told him so. Cas was just too selfish to tell Sebastian, even though he thought that Sebastian already knew; every time they had sex it felt like it would be the last time, like a sweet goodbye.

And maybe that was alright, because even though there was always sadness in it, Cas learned from it. There had never been someone like Sebastian in his life, someone who just understood how it was that Cas felt.

Because knowing that your mother and your sister loved you, no matter if you were queer or straight or bi wasn’t helping when your head was full of doubt, full of the fear of never being enough, never being respected.

But Sebastian knew. He knew how hard it was sometimes to not be swallowed whole by useless stereotypes that were not only imposed on yourself by others, but already in existence in your own head. And as much as Ellen and Jo and Jodie (and even Aundrea) had tried, they had never really understood. With Sebastian, Cas learned that whom he loved wasn’t the most important thing about himself.

“You don’t love people’s genitalia. You don’t fall in love with some guy’s penis. You fall in love with the way he laughs, or the way he turns his head when the sun blinds him. You fall in love over coffee cups and burned toast, not the fact that he doesn’t have an uterus. Labelling is another way of putting yourself and others in boxes so that your hearts won’t ever touch.”

“You should’ve become a philosopher. Or a young adult novel author,” Cas laughed, but kissed him all the same.

“It’s true, you know?”

“I know.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohmigod guys, this is it. the last chapter of A Story of a Soldier in the Dark. thank you so much, everyone single one of you. your comments and kudos and the little number indicating how many people read the story... I can't really say how much that means to me.
> 
> so, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. and see you in part two ;)
> 
> (also, I'm positively terrified of what y'all are gonna say about the chapter. please please please don't kill me. at least not without telling me first, I need to sort some shit out before I can go. kthx)

* * *

 

Just when Cas had gotten used to the feeling of not hearing from Dean, a postcard arrived.

_Hey Casbutt,_

_We’re coming for you. DW_

_P.S.: He thinks it’s funny to sound dangerous. We just want to visit you & Bobby. See ya! SW_

Cas had to sit down for a few minutes, staring at the front of the postcard (a girl with boobs bigger than her head, a donkey and some rude remark Cas didn’t even want to try and understand). Dean and Sam would come visit him. Frantically, he searched the card for any indication where it was sent from, or when they were arriving, but got nothing.

He didn’t understand anything of it, not the weird phrasing of Dean’s line, nor the happy sounding post scriptum Sam had added. But maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe, all that mattered was that they were coming back.

Dean had written they were coming to get him, so maybe that was what he had been waiting for? Maybe now it was Sam’s turn to stay at Bobby’s, and Dean and him would go on their first own hunt together. He knew that some hunters had sort-of-partners, like Bobby had Rufus, or like John had been with Jo’s dad; so maybe that’s where they were heading? And Sam was still too young to be hunting, at least for Cas’ taste, so maybe they needed him? He knew that it was unlikely that Dean would leave Sam alone, not even at Bobby’s; but that didn’t matter. They could travel all together, that would be fine, too.

He felt a mix of anxiety and anticipation pool in his stomach, and all he could think about was that Dean was coming. Dean was coming for him.

Bobby’s face was priceless when Cas showed him the postcard, confusion and happiness wrapped in one and buried under an old base cap.

“So I guess you two figured out what bit you in the ass, huh?” he said, shoved his cap a bit off his head to scratch his forehead, and put it on again.

Sebastian didn’t seem all that excited about the news, only saying that he was curious to meet the “ominous Dean Winchester plus brother” but wouldn’t stay long after they arrived, so that the house wasn’t too full.

“Anyway, you’re pretty good with what you do, don’t need much teaching. Bobby’s got my phone number now, so whenever you have nothing to do, gimme a call and maybe we continue, yeah?”

Cas nodded, not seeing the disappointment in Sebastian’s eyes. The thing they shared was great, but it couldn’t distract him from the feelings he had invested in Dean. And even though he had more with Sebastian than he’d ever had with Dean – than he maybe ever would have with Dean – the prospect of getting another chance at trying was almost intoxicating.

***

Another week went by and left Cas a nervous wreck. He began to get snappish at the smallest offense, spending more and more time between old cars in the scrapyard, taking Rumsfeld with him, no matter how much Bobby complained that the dog wasn’t “a goddamn pet, Castiel. He’s here to guard the scrapyard, not to get bellyrubs”.

The longer it took for Dean and Sam to arrive (Cas hadn’t even spent time wondering that they hadn’t mentioned their dad) the more every single person in Bobby’s house wished for them to come, even though two thirds just wanted Cas to calm down.

“He’s gonna come, Rumsfeld,” Cas whispered to the dog that had his head lying in Cas’ lap.

“He’s gonna come here, and everything will be alright again.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining how their reunion would be. He was curious how both Sam and Dean looked now; they hadn’t seen each other for so long, it seemed almost like years. Way too long for Cas’ taste, anyway.

“Cas? Cas, you here somewhere?”

Sebastian’s voice broke through his daydreams, and Cas opened his eyes.

“I’m here, wait a second. You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Oh, come on, I’m healed up good, don’t worry. I thought I had to look further back, so I went there first. If I had known you were hiding in the next best pickup truck after Bobby’s porch, I coulda saved me a lot of time.”

“I wasn’t hiding, I was thinking. And from here, I can watch the driveway, so I know when they’re coming,” he explained, unusually patient for these days.

“What’s bringing you out here?” He climbed out of the car and stood beside Sebastian, who looked weirdly serious all of a sudden.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Sebastian said, fidgeting, “about those guys. About Dean.”

Cas cocked his head to the left and squinted.

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s just… do you really think that’s it? That it’s gonna be alright all of a sudden? He left you hanging and now he’s turning up again and you’re nearly out of your mind from excitement!”

Cas shied away from the sudden anger that emanated from Sebastian.

“I don’t know what you mean. They’re my best friends, why shouldn’t I be excited?”

“He doesn’t know what you’re worth, Cas, that’s clear to me. He might see you as a friend, but clearly nothing more. I mean, if he had, don’t you think he’d made a move by now? We could be good, Cas, so good. We could hunt together, you and I. I could teach you everything, and I’d be so good for you…”

Sebastian stepped closer and Cas realized too late that he had his back against the truck’s hood.

“Could you move away, please? You’re making me really uncomfortable right now,” Cas mumbled.

“I’d never hurt you, Cas, never. You must know that, right? I’d never throw you away like he did, please let me have this.”

Before Cas could even come up with an answer, Sebastian kissed him, holding Cas’ head tightly between his hands.

Cas gasped and his hands moved to grab at Sebastian’s back, scrambling for a hold so he could pull him away. It wasn’t like they’d never kissed, they had fucked only two nights ago and it had been so good, but now it just felt not right, it felt wrong, it -

“What the fuck, Cas?” the voice startled them both, and Cas managed to slid out between Sebastian and the truck.

“Dean. I… oh my god,” Cas stuttered, staring at Dean as much as Sam and Dean were staring at him. The shock on both of their faces sent Cas’ mind reeling.

Sebastian had been right. Dean would never want him like this, the expression on his face, anger and disgust, made that clear enough to Cas. And now, Dean _knew_. He didn’t know about Cas’ love for him, at least that was a tiny relief, but now Dean knew he was gay and he just couldn’t deal with that right now.

Throwing all sensible thoughts in the wind, Cas did the only thing that came to his mind:

He ran.


End file.
